


Rebel with a Cause

by GothamPeasant



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Punk, Everyone is a main character, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 02:03:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2564189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothamPeasant/pseuds/GothamPeasant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So there’s this kid, Bucky Barnes, and Steve hates this kid. </p><p>This kid acts like he's punk, looks like he's punk, kicks the shit out of people like he's punk, and for what? Who knows? Steve sure as hell didn’t know. The kid never spoke.  Never said a goddamn word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

So there’s this kid, Bucky Barnes, and Steve hates this kid. He’s all band t-shirts, with his custom leather jacket and tight jeans. Sometimes he had painted nails, but always there’s a cigarette in his hands.

Rebel without a cause.

Seriously, this kid acts like he's punk, looks like he's punk, kicks the shit out of people like he's punk, and for what? Who knows? Steve sure as hell didn’t know. The kid never spoke. Never said a goddamn word.

Steve would walk the hallways of his Brooklyn school and see Bucky standing in the corner somewhere, headphones in his ears and not a care in the world. At least until some kid got to close, then it was all glares and posturing. Those poor kids would nearly piss themselves trying to get away.

Poor kids.

But not Steve. Oh no. Steve hated that punk, and today that punk just so happen to be standing in the corner where Steve’s locker was. So Steve walked his skinny self to his locker. Head up, shoulders back, and not a care in the world. Well, on the outside. Steve wasn’t sure what Bucky was going to do if Steve got to close, and he couldn’t afford a visit to the hospital for a broken nose… again. Maybe he could convince Clarice to work on his face from home. Heck, Steve should probably know how to set his own nose by now.

Steve smelled cigarette smoke as he neared his locker and turned to see Bucky’s eyes narrowed at him. Today they were lined by thick lines of black. His long hair, barely showing a hit of purple underneath, lined his face right at his cheek bones making then stand out sharply. Wow, okay, so Steve got why those poor kids were scared of him. But he wasn’t going to scare Steve. No fashion punk who though he was ‘different’ was going to scare Steve from getting his Calculus book. Midterms were next week and he was going to ace that thing if it killed him.

Steve pulled out his Calculus and AP Lit book from his locker and placed it in his backpack, zipped it and swung it around to fit snugly on his back. Then, he pulled three extra pens out and placed them in his pocket. For some reason, he always looses every pen he grabs. It’s infuriating. Last, he grabbed his extra inhaler and shut his locker door.

He turned to Bucky once again, glaring himself. Maybe the way Steve’s cheek bones stand out will make him look just as menacing as the punk kid in front of him, instead of sick.

Steve brought his inhaler to his month and took a deep breath as he pressed down. The sharp bitter taste in the back of his tongue did nothing to curve his anger.

“Maybe next time you should be more careful where you smoke that thing!” Steve challenged.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly.

‘That’s right, punk, you’re not the king around here.’ Steve thought.

Bucky brought the cigarette up, showing it like a prize to Steve before pushing the lit end into the locker, putting it out. He shoved his other hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face and revealing a smirk.

“Sorry ‘bout that, punk. Didn’t know.” Steve blinked.

That…wasn’t want he expected to happen. And Bucky’s voice, was, well not what he imagined either. It was rough from disuse, which Steve did imagine, but what threw him off was the very strong note of kindness.

“Just be more careful next time.”

“Will do. See you around.”

* * *

So there’s this kid, Steve Rogers, and Bucky hated this kid.

The thing that really irks him about this kid, the thing that really grates on his nerves, is that Bucky is nearly positive this kid has no idea just how punk he is.

He sure as hell doesn’t dress like one. Actually has this geek chic thing going on. He sure as hell doesn’t act like one. He’s always on time for class, always going above and beyond, buying lunch for the poorer kids, and hell, Bucky even saw this guy help a little old lady across the street.

But man, this kid, Steve Rogers- He fights like a punk.

Bucky has seen this kid get into more fights then he cares to count. And always Steve fucking Rogers never, ever backs down.

Boom! This kid gets knocked to the ground, obvious broken nose. One hit and he’s down. Bucky would have bet money he wasn’t getting up again either. But nah, this kid loves proving him wrong.

Bam! Another hit. The kid comes right back up.

Boom! And right up again he goes.

This would have went on forever if the guy beating the shit out of him hadn’t been freaked out about this little thing getting back up and asking for more. It was obvious the only way he was going win this fight was if he did serious damage to Steve, and he wasn’t stupid.

So the guy beating the shit out of Steve raised his hands and walked away. The whole time Steve was yelling at the guy, calling him a loser and a chicken, with blood dripping down his face and seeping into his shirt.

What a fucking punk.

What a fucking moron. What the hell did this kid have to prove, anyway?

And what a lucky day this was for Bucky, because today was the day he decided to stand next to this kid’s locker. All five foot two inches of this little dude walked up, glare in his eyes and scowl on his lip.

Well shit, Bucky wasn’t looking for a fight. Especially a fight he couldn’t win. So he glared at the kid, daring him to make the move. He just wants his peace. This is a public fucking place, and he can stand here if he damn well pleased.

But it didn’t matter. The kid just ignored him and shoved too large books into his backpack. It’s a wonder the kid didn’t break in half.

‘Here it comes.’ Bucky thought was he watched the little twerp turn to glare him down. Bucky wondered if he walked away if the kid would chase him down. Instead he brought an inhaler to his lips and holy shit the kid had breathing problems.

Goddamn, this kid was unbelievable.

He was pretty sure he saw this kid help some new person on the block move in, in the freezing winter air, right after getting the shit beat out of him.

“Maybe next time you should be more careful where you smoke that thing.” The kid growled- An almost literal growl.

Unfuckingbelievable.

Bucky lifted the cigarette and put it out along the side of the locker.

“Sorry ‘bout that, punk. Didn’t know.” Bucky wasn’t a fucking monster. The kid had breathing problems. Unnatural ability to withstand a beating or not, he wasn’t going to make the kid suffer.

“Just be more careful next time.” Steve said, and he sounded tired. Like it was a fight he’d had a million times over and he wasn’t sure if this was the last time or not. Bucky didn’t know what to do with that. So instead he just nodded and made his break to get the hell out of dodge.

“Will do. See you around.”


	2. Chapter 2

There were plenty of seats in the cafeteria. It was a large school, with a larger cafeteria. Not only that, but there was plenty of extra space because the band geeks, art freaks, and theater buffs are never in the cafeteria anyway. They’d always be in their respected parts of the school, doing…well whatever is they did.

So there were plenty of extra seat in the nice warm cafeteria. Bucky knew this, but he sure as hell didn’t care. The noise is deafening, the faces are grating, and the overwhelming smell of bad food make him want to puke. So instead Bucky Barnes went to the football field and sat on the bleachers eating his home made sandwich. It was peaceful, and Bucky liked it that way.

So yeah, there were plenty of extra seats in the cafeteria. Bucky knew that, he just didn’t give a shit. The thing was, he wasn’t sure Saint Steve was aware of the fact that he could sit in a perfectly warm building because right across from him, on the opposite side, sat the little Steve Rogers huddling to himself for warmth and drawing with a shaking hand.

Pathetic.

Bucky wasn’t ever sure the kid knew Bucky was out here. He should, they both sat out there every day. Bucky would watch the punk sit his skinny ass down and start drawing every day; never a single food item in his hand. Which was just stupid because Bucky had never seen anyone skinner than this kid in his life. But no, every day Steve Rogers gave his lunch money to some poor kid who obviously didn’t have anything to eat and come outside to starve and freeze to death.

Bucky sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before shoving himself up.

Goddamn fucking kid ruined his peaceful lunch. Now he had to walk down the bleachers, across a fucking field and right back up some blenches. And low and behold, the kid didn’t look up once. Maybe he was dead.

“Hey, Punk!” Bucky said right as he sat his ass back down next to the kid. He was at least going to relax.

“Gah!” Steve gasped, hurriedly clutching his sketch pad to his chest.

“What, you got drawing some hot and heavy steamy stuff there? I wanna see.” Bucky teased. The kids blush was just too damn cute to resist.

“What? No. You surprised me is all! What do you want?”

“Whoa, there kid. I have an extra sandwich I brought. Stupid of me, I never eat more than one. But any way, I saw you over here and thought, eh, if there’s something that deserves it more than the trash it’s the shivering punk kid across the way.”

“I don’t need your charity.” And wasn’t that just fucking adorable. The kid who gave away charity like there was no tomorrow refusing a little himself.

Disgusting. Bucky wanted to puke.

“Who the hell said anything ‘bout charity? It’s either I throw this sandwich away or you eat it. I don’t really give two shits either way.” With that Bucky threw the sandwich in the kids lap and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. This kid was starting to grate on his nerves. Thinking he was all high and mighty and that Bucky actually cared. Bucky sure as hell didn’t care.

Right as he lifted his lighter to his cigarette he remember the damn kid had a breathing problem.

“Fuck.” Bucky cursed has he threw the cigarette on the ground and smashed it with his boot. That’s just great. Fucking fantastic. Now he’s irritated and without a cigarette. “Sorry kid, forgot.”

“I-it’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever kid. Just eat the damn sandwich so we can go inside.”

Steve stared at him for a long moment before unwrapping the sandwich and eating it like his life depended on it. Shit, didn’t the kid ever eat?

“So how come you don’t hang with the art types during lunch? It's obvious you draw. They not good enough for you or something?” Bucky asked.

“Huh? Oh no, they’re all really great artists! I just, uh, I don’t know. We’re not that great as friends I guess. They all seem to be or have a brother or boyfriend I’ve pissed off at some point.” The blush on Steve’s cheeks seems to reach his ears and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold or not. Bucky laughed until he notice a small electronic in Steve’s ear.

“Hey kid, what’s that?” He asked pointing. Right before Steve answered, Bucky recognized it and wished he could take the question back.

“It’s a hearing aid, if you have to know.” And just like that Steve’s defenses were raised and the glare in his eyes he got right before a fight appeared. Of course Bucky just didn’t know when to let things go.

“You always have that, or is it new?”

“I’ve been partially deaf since I was a baby.” Steve sneered. If Bucky has never seen Steve fight, he might have thought it was cute.

“Huh, interesting. So you know that uh…” Bucky waved his hands around in front of him. “Language with the hands thing?”

“Sign Language? Yeah, kinda. I can still hear so it’s not the big of deal, but they say I’ll be deaf by time I’m thirty, I figured I gotta learn.” Steve shrugged. He didn’t take his eyes off of Bucky, waiting for him to move, but he did look a bit more relaxed now.

“Cool cool. There’s this kid on my street who always uses sign language around his girlfriend, or sister, whatever. I’m not sure what she is, but I’ve always want to know what they’re saying to each other. Think you can teach me?”

“I’m not going to teach you sign language so you can spy on people.”

Bucky shrugged. “Okay, want to spy on them for me?”

“What?” Steve laughed.”No. No spying, that’s wrong.”

Bucky smirked, leaning back and letting the sun soak through his skin.

“Think you can teach me, anyway?”


	3. Chapter 3

Tony rolled his eyes when he saw Steve sitting curled around his sketch pad in the cold uncomfortable chair, completely unaware of the rest of the world.

He was such a dork sometimes. Not paying attention to class was something you were only suppose to do _after_ class actually started. For some reason Steve just couldn’t get that right.

Steve twirled his charcoal around to get the right edge, and then lightly brushed his pinky across the rough page. He blew slightly on result, before picking up a different piece of charcoal. He scratched it against the page in a methodical motion as he turned his head to look at it from a different angle. He brushed his pinky against the page again, feeling each individual bump in the back and watching as black smeared along-

“Hey Stevie, whatcha drawing?”

Steve nearly jumped right of his chair as he flailed, smearing a thick line black line down his cheek from the charcoal in his hands. Well, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time Steve had art supplies plastered against his skin. To Tony’s great displeasure it was never because Steve was actually doing anything fun either. Not that it stopped him from teasing Steve with naughty jokes. Oh no, Tony loved to get Steve to blush so bright other people asked if he was okay.

Steve sighed, rubbing at his cheek and hoping it would remove any stain.

“God, Tony, did you have to do that?” He asked.

Tony snorted. Steve knew him better than that.

“I think I did, I think I did. Yes. I wasn’t really interested in what you were drawing before, but now I am. Let me see!”

“No.” Steve stated, closing his sketch pad. “Ever hear of personal boundaries or privacy?”

Again, Steve knew him better than to ask that question. Tony nearly rolled his eyes as he jumped up on his desk and leaned back.

“Sure I have. Pepper and Rhodey have given me the speech before I think. You shouldn’t have jumped like a little baby rabbit when I spoke up though. Not if you didn’t want me curious.”

Steve merely shrugged before turning away. It wasn’t that Steve disliked Tony or anything, it’s just, well okay, basically it's like this: Tony was the most popular kid in school thanks to his name and Tony not only seem to revel on the power, but he seemed greatly annoyed at it. Tony didn’t want attention for his name. He’d take attention from basically anything else though. His looks, his humor, his mind, or heck, even his life bedding every person he could. But most kids just want to be friends with Tony for one reason- His last name is Stark. So Tony had taken it upon himself to annoy every kid who looked at him in awe, but had never known him. Tony was great at annoying people on a regular basis, let alone when he was trying and Tony prided himself on that.

Most people took it with a grain of salt- ‘The eccentric Starks,’ they’d say. Others took it personally. Usually some hot shot kid with a hot shot dad who was trying to smooze into Tony’s good graces. So when Tony would blow them off with cheap one-liner, they decided it was an attack on them. Then they decided to attack Tony.

Steve, being the little snot he was, had chosen that day of all days to take a detour through the park that ran behind his house. Tiny, itty bitty Steve with a heart of gold and fists that were made to fight had walked right by as three little shits took their shattered egos about the fact they had small dicks out on Tony because they didn’t know how to be normal human beings. Guys like that make Steve see red.

So Steve intervened. Broke some kid’s nose, and got his nose broken in return before Tony’s bodyguard showed up. They next day Tony showed up to his house, bruised, swollen face and all, to demand what Steve had wanted in return.

“Come on, kid. No one does something like that out of the goodness of their hearts.” Tony had demanded, and it was true. No one got themselves nearly killed out of the goodness of their hearts. But Steve had.

He didn’t even know who Tony Stark was until they had gotten into an argument on his door step over why Steve saved him. He had Googled him that night.

Steve wasn’t that impressed. Not that Tony had known that at the time otherwise things might have gone a little differently.

Tony just couldn’t believe anyone would do something that stupid without getting something in return and so the next day Steve found an envelope full of cash stuffed in his locker. He had tracked Tony down and shoved it right back in his face without a second thought.

Steve had ranted at him right in the middle of the hallway, with people surrounding him and everything, that he didn’t need some rich kid throwing money at him for no reason and he was insulted to his very core that Tony dared to think he would take some whiny rich kids money because he didn’t know how to fight and Steve had to save his ass.

Unfortunately, Tony didn’t know what to with that and made the only logical choice there was. Steve was after something way bigger and had devised a very long and thorough plan to get it. So Tony stuck to Steve’s side like glue after that- you know, to figure out what the plan was. And if he was his extra annoying self it certainly wasn’t some sort of weird screwed up friendship test thing like Pepper had suggested because that was weird and screwed up and Tony wasn’t either of those things…

That was two years ago, and Tony still hadn’t stopped trying to annoy the hell out of Steve, but it had dwindled down to his normal level of annoying and dare he say it, they might just be friends now.

Even the pranks had slowed…slightly.

Tony lifted his boot to rest on Steve’s desk and watched delightfully as Steve’s jumped and tucked his sketchbook closer.

“Seriously, I’m gonna steal that sketchpad. Consider this our truce warning.” Not that Tony cared about the truce rules that they had made three months ago after a particularly bad prank war, but, hey, he can be considerate sometimes.

“Tony, for once can you-”

“Oh hey, Stevie, I forgot to tell you! I’m having a party this weekend ‘cause my parents are out town and I want to say ‘fuck you’ in the best way possible.” Tony smirked as he leaned back and raised his voice so the rest of the class could hear him. “Make sure to tell all of your friends. The more the merrier. Bring booze!”

Loud music, warm bodies, and alcohol- There was no better way to spend a weekend in Tony’s opinion.

“Weren’t your parents gone last weekend, too?” Steve asked.

“Yup, and the one before that and the one before that. Pretty sure I haven’t seen them all year. It’s been fun, truth be told.” Tony laughed as he pulled his legs off his desk and poured himself into his seat.

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “You know, instead of throwing parties, you can stay with me.” he offered.

“What? Why would I stay at your tiny house when I can stay in a mansion and drink all the booze I want? Come on, Stevie, think with your brain here.”

“Of course, of course. What was I thinking?” Steve shook his head as zipped up his backpack,sealing his sketchbook inside. “Offer will remain on the table though.”

“I’ll consider your offer if you come to my party.”

“I don’t thi-”

“Shush, you’re coming. The decision has already been made in your head and you know it!”

Tony loved dragging Steve along with his wild parties because it was the only time he would ever see the kid let go and enjoy himself. Tony would never admit this, but sometimes he’d just throw parties to see Steve get slightly drunk and make out with some kid in his English class. Uptight Steve was fun, but drunk Steve better.

Also Tony loved how much sex he got those weekends. He was the sex king and everyone knew it. Even Steve knew it. He had reputation to uphold, and parties were the best way to uphold it.

Steve’s, probably boring, reply was cut short by the teacher coming in and shushing the whole class as he pulled out his papers.

“Please sit down- oh, Stark is already in his seat. Well, today is going to be an interesting day, isn’t it?” Mr. Richards said in way of greeting. The class laughed slightly as Mr. Richards began class.

Tony zoned out as the teacher droned on about some project. It was science so Tony was sure he’d ace it without listing to some boring speech about whatever. Instead he concocted a very fun plan to look into Steve’s sketchbook. Steve didn’t jump like that for just anything.

Finally Mr. Richards told everyone to get into groups of three and start working. Tony was pulled out of his planning by his name being called.

“Huh? Uh, Yes, Mr. Fantastic?” Tony nearly smiled as he heard Steve groan at the nickname only he would understand.

To Mr. Richards credit he didn’t even blink. “Let’s try not to blow anything up this project, okay?”

“Aye Captain, I’ll do my best.” Tony called as he loudly pushed his desk next to Steve’s. He was happy to see the Bruce had already dragged his desk over.

Tony noticed Steve’s look of internal panic and learned over to stage whisper, “Don’t you worry, Stevie bear, Bruce and me are going to get you that A!”

Tony smirked as he leaned closer and whispered “But first I’m just going to take a peek at this.”

Steve gave an indignant cry as he realized Tony had grabbed his backpack and was digging out his sketchbook.

“Tony, I swear to God if you open that I will make sure you get no sex at your party this weekend.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Tony sighed.

Tony only felt slightly bad as Steve’s face turned red enough that even Tony wanted to ask if he was okay. In Tony’s defense, Steve should have known when he became friends with him that there would be no such thing as privacy. So yeah, Tony only felt slightly bad. Yup. Only slightly. Definitely not more than that. Nope.

“If you open that book I will tell that girl in your English class that won’t stop staring at you, that you have a secret crush on her!” Tony balked as he slowly slid the sketchbook back into the backpack. Steve nearly smirked in triumph, that little snot.

“Way to fight dirty. I’m proud of you, Stevie.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was lunch and Steve was starving.

He hadn’t eaten anything since the night before when Tony had broken into his house with Pizza in one hand and Bruce Banner in the other declaring it ‘Study Night!’

Not that they did any actual studying. Oh no, instead Tony had been loud and demanding as he decided that night would be the perfect time to go over plans for his party. Then when he got bored with that, he wanted to play a card game. Then he wanted to sneak out for alcohol. Steve had been trying to get Tony to calm down all night and to actually sit down and help with the project.

Instead he ended up playing a game of rummy with Tony. Then he ended up tackling him to the floor when Tony threw down his cards and declared he was going out to get some alcohol.

“It’s a school night, Tony.” Steve had sighed. “No drinking allowed on school nights. That was the deal. Besides, it’s ‘Study Night’, remember?”

Tony had sighed as he put on a show of struggling under Steve’s light grip.

“Steve, Steve, my dear sweet mother hen. It’s study night for you and Brucie. It’s entertainment night for Tony. And you people are way more boring than I thought. Getting drunk is just the cure I need.”

Steve rolled his eyes putting more weight on Tony as his struggles became real attempts to get away.

“Bruce?” Steve asked. “Any chance of you helping out here?”

The corners of Bruce’s lips turned up slightly as he shook his head. 

“Controlling Tony is your area of expertise, not mine.” He shrugged and went back to work on his laptop. Bruce was the only person Tony would let actually work when he wanted too and Steve was very jealous of that fact.

Tony pouted as he turned to Bruce. “Aw, Brucie, you don’t want to have a threesome with me and Steve here? I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Bruce completely ignored him and took another bite of pizza. Tony took that was a sign to turn his full seductive gaze at Steve and nearly purr at him as he arched his back.

“So sorry your plan didn’t work Steves-zee, but we can still have a bit-”

“If you think you can embarrass me into letting you go illegally get alcohol then you’re wrong.”

Tony just laughed slumping against the floor again. “Fine fine, no fun tonight, but at least I was able to turn you that delicious shade of red.”

“Hey, can we watch a movie?” Bruce spoke up from his corner.

Steve could nearly kiss Bruce, he really could. Bruce was quiet, smart, and thoughtful. And while Steve didn’t know much else about him, he did know that Bruce was always there right as Steve had hit his limit for dealing with Tony.

Tony was the annoying little brother Steve didn't know he could ever want. It didn’t matter that Tony was a year older than him. Tony annoyed, heckled, and dragged Steve along everywhere he went, just like a little brother. It had only become worse when Pepper and Rhodey left for college and Tony’s full personality turned towards Steve.

Steve didn’t mind Tony that much. He was incredibly smart and talented, and he was very very passionate about the things he cared about, but those things lead to Tony’s personality being a little… demandingly eccentric to say the absolute least.

So Steve was glad when Bruce had shown up a few months ago -grateful even- because this meant Steve didn’t have to spend every waking moment worried about Tony.

Now it was just every other minute.

But Steve wasn’t grateful for Tony or Bruce right now because right as Steve was about to grab his second slice of pizza both of them had grabbed the last two remaining slices and shoved them in their mouths before Steve could even speak a word.

So Steve was starving. It was lunch and he was starving. He couldn’t even buy himself anything because he gave the last bit of money he saved for lunch to the kid in his calculus class who he knew was having problems at home. Steve knew he would be able to eat something warm when he went home, but he didn’t have a lot of faith that the kid could.

So no, Steve wasn’t grateful for Bruce or Tony because he may be skinny but he deserved food too.

So Steve was very hungry, and slightly irritated at his whole week and ready to just go home and take a four day nap.

He didn’t feel like dealing with Tony, or Bruce, or a giant project. He didn’t feel like dealing with anything.

But then there was Bucky Barnes. That Punk kid who never said a word to anyone but suddenly decided that he was going to spend every lunch with Steve Rogers and actually talk to him.

Steve didn’t know what to think about that because Bucky Barnes was the punk who thought he owned the school. Bucky Barnes was the punk who glared at anyone who dared to get within a two foot Radius of him. Bucky Barnes is the punk who winked at young girls and smoked in front of teachers without a care in the word.

Bucky Barnes was apparently also the punk kid who decided to start talking to Steve Rogers and it made no sense at all.

And Bucky Barnes just so happened to be the young man who was standing down on the football field, smoking a cigarette as the sun hit his face at just right angle to create a truly impressive scene.

If Steve suddenly rushed toward his backpack to dig out his sketchbook and a piece of charcoal so he could outline the lines of Bucky’s silhouette, well, that was because Steve was an artist and artists do not miss a chance to draw something as beautiful as that. No they do not.

Yup, the lighting was perfect.

Steve took out his supplies, glanced down at Bucky, and then got lost in his drawing. A curve there, a shadow here, a shape there, a highlight there. Black not only rubbing off on his hands, but also smearing on the page to create-

“Hey, Punk.”

“Gah!”

Steve was going to kill him. Didn’t he know not to sneak up on poor unsuspecting souls with breathing problems? Didn’t he know to act like a normal person and not scare the living daylights- wait, is he laughing? He is. He’s laughing. Steve was going to scream. Internally, but screaming none the less! 

“You always going to jump when I come and sit next to ya? Not that I don’t think it’s funny as hell but it can’t be good for your heart.” Bucky asked.

Steve looked over at him and saw that Bucky was leaning against the bleacher behind him with a lazy smile. 

Huh- Looked like the lighting was perfect here too. That’s weird.

Steve shook his head as he angled his sketchpad so Bucky couldn’t see it.

“Maybe if you stop sneaking up on me.” Steve replied.

Bucky laughed and Steve wondered if it would be weird to ask Bucky to stay still so Steve could draw him. His face was nearly symmetrical and Steve itched to see if he could capture it on paper.

“Thought you saw me down there as I gave myself cancer. Sorry punk, I’ll try not to scare the living daylights out of you next time.”

“You didn’t scare me. You surprised me. Big difference.” Steve huffed.

“Sure, sure.” Bucky waved off the comment. “Whatcha drawing there?”

Steve’s face turned bright red as he carefully closed his sketchbook and placed it in his backpack.

“Nothing.” He mumbled. Somehow he didn’t think Bucky would take very kindly to some kid drawing him. Weird conversations or not.

“Okay.” Bucky shrugged. “I brought something for you.”

Steve stared at Bucky for a moment, confused, before a tubberware bowl flew from Bucky’s hand to hit him square in the stomach. Steve tried to suppress a cough.

“My mom went crazy cooking things last night and if someone doesn’t help us eat the leftovers it’s going to spoil in the fridge. If there’s one thing my Ma hates, its food going bad in the fridge.”

Steve opened the lid to find a large pile of perfectly cooked lasagna. It looked delicious and he was still starving.

“It’s warm.” Steve commented.

“I heated it up in the microwave before coming out here.”

Steve didn’t know what to do with that. Bucky Barnes, the punk kid he couldn’t stand was handing him food and heating it up for him. Steve didn’t know what to think, but he knew he couldn’t just take the kid’s lunch.

Steve looked up prepared to hand the food back to Bucky, only to see Bucky had his own tubberware bowl in his lap and was holding out a fork for Steve.

“Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to eat it with your hands.” He joked.

Steve really didn’t know what to think of this situation. He just reached out and took the fork because Bucky had obviously packed two lunches this morning, and he would have only done that if he thought more than one person was going to be eating it. The only person Bucky had ever eaten lunch with was Steve. That meant that the Bucky had obviously been thinking of Steve and decided to bring him lunch.

Steve might not have known what to think of that, but he did know he wasn’t going to decline an offer that thoughtful.

“You didn’t have to-”

“I told you, it would have gone bad anyway.” Bucky interrupted. “That or I would have had to eat it and gotten fat. I’m just using you as a food disposal so I don’t ruin this perfect body.”

Steve snorted. “Wow, so thoughtful.”

“I know.” Bucky smirked as he shoved nearly the whole portion of lasagna he had in his mouth.

Steve looked down at his own meal and nearly shoved to whole portion in his mouth as well.

He was hungry.

They both sat in silence as they finished eating. It didn’t take more than five minutes but when they were Steve felt a satisfied smile cross his face as he leaned back to mirror Bucky's earlier position.

“You’re mom is a really good cook.” Steve commented handing Bucky the tubberware and fork back.

“Yes she is. But I’ll make sure to tell her you said so. She always loves compliments.”

Steve nodded as Bucky put the dishes in a plastic bag and shoved it in his messenger bag.

“So I have a question for ya.” Bucky began. “I see you hanging out with that Stark kid all the time. What’s that about?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re friends right?”

Steve nodded, narrowing his eyes. Is this what Bucky was after? Facts about the illusive Tony Stark? It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to become friends with Steve just to get to Tony, but somehow this time it stung a bit. Steve didn’t think Bucky was the kind of guy to manipulate others like that.  
He should have known better.

“Okay, so if you and Stark are friends, why don’t you eat lunch with him? Instead I see you out here every day freezing your ass off.”

Steve ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. He needs to stop jumping to conclusions. Bucky doesn’t seem like he’s the kind of guy that pretends to be friends with someone just so he can use them. Steve should give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe Bucky really was just curious.

“Tony is, you know, busy during lunch. He’s got a lot of…friends, and I don’t feel like being bothered by it all every day.”

Bucky just nodded and looked over the field. “Yeah, I guess I’d be the same way. Besides it’s beautiful out here, don’t you think? Every artist’s wet dream.”

Steve looked out along with Bucky and smiled. Yeah, it was pretty gorgeous.

Past the football field was a small row of trees that the morning dew had frozen on. The sun was hitting the ice at just the right angle to create thousands of little prisms that spread small translucent rainbows across the air.

No, it wasn’t a bad sight at all.


	5. Chapter 5

What the hell were those kids saying?

Yet again these two kids sat on the sidewalk on the other side of the street signing to each other like they did every other day. And it annoyed the hell out of Bucky.

It wasn’t that they were signing or anything. No no, people have to communicate somehow, right?

It wasn’t even that they always sat right in view of his window. No, he didn’t really care about that. It was a free country. Everyone could do what they wanted.

It wasn’t like Bucky had a bad view when they were there either. Neither of the kids are bad looking. One had messy blonde hair, blue eyes, and always loved to wear anything purple- especially his purple combat boots. From what Bucky could tell from his window he had a piercing in the top of his ear and a lip ring. It looked good on him. The other had long red hair with perfect curls, green eyes, and always dressed like she was getting ready to go to a concert with her eyebrow piercing, large boots, ripped jeans, concert shirt and dark denim jacket lined with patches and pins. She even looked like she was about to kick ass in a mosh pit. Bucky could never decide from one day to the next which one was more attractive.

So no, it wasn’t that they were there and signing that bugged Bucky. The thing that bugged him was that every now and then they would both glance up towards his window as they talked. Both would eventually point up towards him like was the topic of their conversation. Which was just..irritating!

It wasn’t like he was spying on them and they were pointing it out. No, this was Bucky’s spot and every day he would sit on this window sill and read. He had done so for years and no one had bugged him about it before.

But a couple of months ago these two kids just sat down right across from his window and signed to each other and gesture towards Bucky and his window like they were directly affecting Bucky’s life.

Not that they were. Bucky just ignored them. He didn’t stare at them trying to decipher their facial features and he sure as heck didn’t ask Steve to teach him sign language the moment he found out he knew.

Nope.

Because that would be these two kids affecting his life. And that would be just a bit obsessive because they’ve never even interacted before.

Also now that he thinks about it, asking some kid he just met to teach him sign language just because he was sort of deaf was actually a bit rude. He should maybe apologize. One day.

But anyway the point was that these two attractive kids were obviously trying to get Bucky’s attention and he was just irritated enough to do something about it.

So he grabbed a pad of sticky notes and a pen. Wrote something on the sticky notes and stormed down his stairs, past his mom in the living room (‘Where are you going, James?’ ‘I’m just going outside, Ma. I’ll be back.’) and right out his front door. He was very careful not to slam the door because his Ma would be angry and that is not something he could deal with now.

But he did stomp across the street as angry as he could and made sure not the let the realization that he forgot to put shoes on cross his face. Shit it was cold.

He stopped right in front of the two kids and waited for them to look up him before thrusting the sticky note in their faces.

After both read it, Bucky became even more confused as the blonde began to pout, his lip ring making his bottom lip stick out all the more, but the redhead’s lips curved up to produce a small sinister smile as she held her hand out towards the blonde. He quickly dug around in his pockets and produced a five dollar bill which he slapped on the redhead’s hands.

“Hey, I’m Tasha, and the idiot who bet against me here is Clint. Nice to meet you, Bucky.” The redhead, Tasha, intoned.

The blonde, Clint, groan before falling back against the ground. He cross his arms over his chest and he shook his head. “I can’t fucking believe it. Two more days, just two.” Clint muttered.

Bucky tilted his head in confusion and looked over to Tasha hoping for an explanation. Tasha patted the ground besides her indicating for Bucky to sit. Bucky really wasn’t sure that he wanted to do that though.

On one hand he wants to know exactly what these kids want and what all of this was about. On the other hand, this really wasn’t going how he imagined it and Bucky desperately wanted to go back to his room and read on his window sill. Bucky did not want to be here at all. He wanted to be not here. He wanted to have his chest not tighten up. He wanted to get the words out of his mouth that he desperately wanted to say.

They were just words. People spoke to communicate. They were just words.

He wanted to turn and walk back to his house where only his mom would bother him. He wanted to be on the football field bleachers where no one was there and he could speak to Steve.

Okay, so he could speak to Steve. Huge accomplishment in his life he had tried very very hard not to think about until this moment.

And he succeeded.

And now he was thinking about it. Right in front of these two kids who were obviously trying to get him to come out and interact with him. What did they even want with him anyway? What could they have possibly wanted with him because Bucky sure as hell knew it wasn’t so they could see him freeze up and have an internal panic attack.

Nope. God, what was he even thinking?

Actually he knew what he was thinking. He was thinking that these two kids used sign language so he came to the stupid ass conclusion that they couldn’t hear him if he spoke so they wouldn’t need him to speak. And now they’re both staring at him. Yup, he is even more of a freak than normal. Clint had sat back up and was using his teeth to play with his lip ring and Tasha was just calmly staring at him. They were both waiting.

Okay, Bucky could do this. He could. He spoke to Steve without a single problem. And it kinda seems like Steve doesn’t even like Bucky all that much so it shouldn’t be a problem to speak to two kids on the street with no one else around. It shouldn’t be a problem. He spoke to Steve.

He spoke to Steve and he didn’t even think about it. It didn’t even cross his mind that he shouldn’t be speaking.

So why was this such a big deal now?

WHY THE HELL CAN’T HE JUST SAY FUCKING HI?

God, he wanted a Cigarette.

Bucky quickly looked back to his house to make sure his Ma wasn’t looking out the window.

‘It’s now or never.’ Bucky thought before promptly sitting right were Tasha had patted. He dug in his pockets a moment before pulling out a pack of cigarettes with a lighter stuck between the film and the pack. He quickly hit the bottom the pack with the palm of his hand to push out a cigarette so he could grab it and put it between his lips.

After he lit the cigarette, he took a deep breath, letting the smoke burn his lungs. He motioned wordlessly for Tasha to speak.

She shrugged. “We noticed you in school. You have a reputation for being a little bit of a loner. Me and Clint here thought you could use a friend.”

Bucky looked toward Clint who was nodding. “Yeah, we figured you’d just blow us off if we approached you, so we devised a plan to get you to approach us.”

Tasha looked over at Bucky who was now getting out his second cigarette and taking large puffs. “In hindsight it might have been a little bit manipulative. We shouldn’t have done things this way. We didn’t think of the possibility that there’s a personal reason you don’t speak to anyone.”

“Yeah, but we’re here now.” Clint smiled and jerked his head towards Tasha. “Me and Tasha here know what it’s like to be alone. We didn’t mean any harm.”

Tasha looked down at the frayed ends of her shirt and then back up to look right in Bucky’s eyes. “If you want us to leave, we will. But I have a feeling you don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Bucky closed his eyes trying to process everything that was happening. He wasn’t alone. He just chose not to have many friends. People were annoying. They were suffocating. They always wanted something Bucky couldn’t give. Besides he wasn’t totally alone. He had his Ma. He’d always have his Ma. And he had Steve at lunch time.

Granted Steve seemed to dislike him. But Bucky could talk to him without stuttering or having a panic attack. Bucky could talk to him without even thinking about those things, and Steve would give civil responses and conversations.

And maybe Steve wasn’t strictly a friend, but he could be some day if Bucky could learn not to annoy him.

Not that Bucky wanted to be friends with Steve. Nope. Bucky didn’t care. He was just some kid who Bucky could talk too.

Some skinny rotten little punk kid who got the shit beat out of him for sticking up for some nerd. Bucky only sat and talked with him because the kid seemed lonely. Bucky thought the kid was like him, he just needed a fri-

Oh.

No. No. No.

Bucky didn’t need anyone. He had himself and his Ma. He didn’t need-

“So, what do say? We’re super pretty cool.” Clint stated. “Wanna be friends?”

Bucky looked down at the sticky notes and read what he wrote originally.

_‘Hi, I’m Bucky.’_

He snorted and tore the sticky note off the pad, crumbled it up and threw it in the street.

He took a deep breath twirling the pen in his hand before bringing it to the pad to write one word.

_‘Sure.’_


	6. Chapter 6

Sometimes Bucky imagined himself going up to Steve and telling him he hated him.

Because he did. Oh yes, Bucky hated him so much that he thought about writing ‘Bucky Barnes hates Steve Rogers’ all over his notebooks. He’d complete it with small arrow through the A in hate, just to be fancy. The thing is Steve Rogers was a nobody. He was just some punk kid with a wound up ball of angry in him who had stared right up at Bucky with nothing but annoyance in his eyes. Yet the kid had the fucking audacity to- He fucking had the nerve to-

Bucky Barnes hated Steve Rogers. This wasn’t the first time he had come to this conclusion, but it certainly wasn’t the best.

“Are you doing well today, James?” As much as Bucky hated Steve he wasn’t sure it compare to the owner the soft voice who that just spoke to him. Across from him in a small box of a room, filled with plastic plants and lighting designed to give you a headache, sat Dr. Maria Hill. Every other week she would try to pry his brain open and figure out what was wrong with him.

As if one person could figure that out.

His absolute refusal to say anything to her in the last five years didn’t stop her from trying though. Every other week she’s stare him down, ask meaningless stupid questions and then tell him they’ve made great progress and that she can’t wait to talk to him again soon. He had a feeling she was making fun of him.

Three years ago she had taught him breathing exercises to control his anger once he started getting into fights at school. He never used them unless he was in her office. Her face begged at him to scream at her, call her out of her bullshit, to just do something or anything to stop looking at him like he was an open book to her. But his mouth just didn’t work anymore, so instead he’d take a deep slow breath and shrug at her question.

She nodded, writing in her notebook as if his shrug was the most thought provoking thing he had done. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead propped his dirty boots on the small table in front of the large chair he sat in. He felt like the chair was trying to swallow him whole. He’s not sure he would mind at this point.

Twenty nine more minutes and counting.

“How is school going?” She asked. As if she didn’t know. He knew all his teachers sent his ma monthly reports on his progress and his ma forwarded them to Dr. Hill. He also knew every single email said that he was excelling in all his classes. The only time he had any problems was group projects and that’s because those morons didn’t think him competent enough to actually do any of the work. Just because he didn’t talk didn’t mean he was stupid. Dr. Hill nodded at the silence.

“Last year of high school. Must be exciting for you. Are you looking into any colleges?” Bucky didn’t even blink at the question. He just continued staring at the horrendous floral pattern on the chipped wallpaper behind her.

Colleges? No. Why would he do that? He didn’t have a job he wanted to go into. He didn’t have a dream life he wanted to lead. He wasn’t even sure he deserved- He didn’t even know if colleges accepted applicants for people who refuse to talk. He was required by law to go to high school, but college wouldn’t let him continue without talking. Oral reports are apparently a big thing.

No, school wasn’t something he was looking into, no matter what he told his Ma, and if he was truthful with himself he wanted to enlist. Travel. Do some good and protect the people who really needed it. But then again, the Military wouldn’t accept him either. So what was even the point?

“Has there been anyone new in your life?” Hill asked. Bucky resisted the urge to roll his eyes. She tried so hard to act like her and his Ma weren’t talking. She tried so hard to give him a false sense of privacy that it actually kind of sad to witness. Bucky just shrugged again though. Dr. Hill spend five years waiting for this moment, he might as well make her happy at least once. She didn’t smile like he expected her too though. She just nodded solemnly and wrote more things down her book before setting it down of the table.

“James. I want you to listen to me, okay? You can’t expect things to get better over night. It’s really great that you’re letting people other than your family into your life. It’s a huge step, and it’s something you should be proud of. But you need to know that this isn’t your one step getting better program. It’s going to get harder from this point on. And you’re going to get frustrated and want to give up. Please, for your sake keep moving forward.” She stared at him for a moment, her lips forming into a small thin line. Bucky didn’t even try to meet her gaze. Normally he’d stare her right in the eyes to let her know that she doesn’t have anything on him. His life is his own. She can’t tell him about his life anymore than the next person could. But this time she was right.

She was fucking right. He had talked to Steve like he talks to his Ma. He didn’t think about how he didn’t talk- couldn’t talk. He just fucking talked. He started the conversations even! Joked! He talked longer than he could ever remember and his throat felt used by end of each of their conversations. He thought that was it! He had fucking done it! He got over this god forsaken part of his life. He wasn’t broken anymore. And then came Tasha and Clint and he couldn’t force the words out of his mouth when he tried.

No matter how hard he wished he could and no matter how many times he opened his mouth, all that came out was silence. Wasn’t that just the kicker? He could talk and then all of a sudden he couldn’t. He hated it.

He hated it. He thought he had fucking cured everything and he didn’t. He fucking didn’t.

Now it just a whole lot clearer that he’s broken.

“One step at a time, James. Remember that. Try to communicate clearly with the new people in your life. Write them notes or letters. Keep a notebook handy. You don’t even have to give them the letters to begin with. Just write down what you want to say and choice for yourself if you want to them to hear you. You don’t have to talk for people to listen.”

* * *

Bucky Barnes was not by any sense of the word, a likeable guy. He glared at people till they would leave him alone and if that wasn’t enough he’s kick their face in hard enough to make sure they never thought about messing with him again. People didn’t come near Bucky unless he wanted them too. Even then most didn’t try to stray to close.

After- When Bucky stopped talking even his father didn’t seem to know what to do with him. He had tried to pat Bucky on the shoulders in the beginning but stopped quickly when all Bucky would do was flinch. His mom never touched him, but she was always there. Always close by in case he needed her. He couldn’t have been more grateful if the whole thing hadn’t happened in the first place. He was able to talk to him mom sometimes. She was the only person he had ever spoken to in the last five years, but he still couldn’t get out more than a few sentences at a time.

He sees the resentment in his father’s eyes sometimes and wonders why he can’t see the same in his ma's.

Looking back Bucky was sure this family wouldn’t have survived what had happened if it wasn’t for Rebecca.

Rebecca was one when the police showed up on his parents door step with Bucky clinging to a bright orange blanket as he tried to stay standing. Bucky had never met Rebecca. Never knew her name.

After he was cleared to go back home Bucky thought he would hate the little girl who liked purple and green hair ties and thought Bucky should wear her pink and yellow ones.

Bucky thought he would resent her because even he knew his parents would be better off with just her as a child.

But even at one the little girl was a cuddler and Bucky was the only acceptable person who could hug her after her nightmares. The first words Bucky had ever said to his mom after everything happened was, “It’s okay” after she had tried to stop Rebecca from climbing all over Bucky. His mom had merely nodded before rushing out of the room and Rebecca quickly climbed back into his lap and snuggled as close as she could before falling asleep.

For the first time he felt like his chest wasn’t completely empty and iced over.

Now Rebecca was six, “Almost seven!” she’d declare proudly holding up two hands, and although Bucky had yet to say a word to her she didn’t seem to care. She had come home one day from school and ran right up to Bucky to let him know that today in school she learned her letters and that soon she would be able to read and they would be able to talk by writing!

Every day she would grab his hand and pull him to the table she would do her homework on. She would hand him a piece of paper and a pencil before getting to work. “That way we can both be super good at writing!” She declared to him. Bucky just smiled and went along with it every single time. Sometimes he would draw her small pictures- all of which were hanging on the walls in her room. Other times when she was having trouble figuring out how to write a particular letter he would make her watch how he wrote it.

She always smiled at him with the largest smile he had ever seen. Smiles that he knew were for him and him alone.

If Bucky was to choose the first person he was going to talk to besides his ma, it would have been Rebecca. It would have been the little sister who from the very first day he came home broken loved him unconditionally. It would have been the little girl who desperately wanted to hear her brother say that he loved her back.

If Bucky had chosen who he was going to start speaking too, it most certainly wouldn’t have been some punk kid who told him what to do.

It wouldn’t have been Steve fucking Rogers.

Bucky found himself closing his eyes and taking a slow breath. Rebecca was sitting beside him, pencil grazing the page as she practiced the word ‘snack’. Bucky reached over and ruffled her hair before landing a soft kiss on her forehead. She looked up at him and smiled before kissing him briefly on the nose. “Love you, too.” She chirped before going back to her homework.

For once in his life he took Dr. Hill’s advice and began writing a letter.

* * *

 

_Dear Steve,_

_I’m not sure who I hate more at this point. You or me…_


	7. Chapter 7

A blacksmith must hit a sword several times in order to shape it. It starts off as a shapeless block of metal. Then it is heated and melted and cooled over and over again as the blacksmith uses precision to abuse, hit, and shape the useless hunk of metal into something beautiful, sharp and deadly.

In the same respect, tragedy is the way the world shapes the human soul.

Without tragedy how much is a human soul even worth? What does it truly know of love? Or of happiness? If a soul hadn’t lost everything, then what can it know of want?

These are the thoughts that kept Steve Rogers awake at three in the morning tossing and turning on a tear soaked pillow.

Without tragedy, how can you truly know what life is worth?

Steve turned his head, burying his nose and mouth into the pillow, and screamed. Once all the air had left his lung and his chest hurt with the force, Steve sat up and silently stared at the alarm clock on his night stand.

3:37 A.M.

Rubbing his face Steve stood and grabbed his inhaler from the top of dresser. Placing the tube in his mouth he began making his way towards the kitchen and inhaled quick and sharp. Steve swallowed around the bitter taste on the back of his tongue.

He turned on every light from the bedroom to the kitchen- not even bothering to be quiet. There was no one in the house he could wake anymore. Once in the kitchen he grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the faucet. It tasted grimy as he greedily drank it. He wished he had bottled water he could drink, but he hadn’t gone grocery shopping this mouth. It was stupid thing to do considering Social Services had a way of popping up with sneak visits at the worse times, and they wouldn’t think kindly of an empty fridge.

One more year and he won’t have to worry about it anymore, though. Just one more year and his babysitters will stop harassing him about pointless things.

Steve sighed as he placed the empty glass by the sink. He wasn’t going to be getting any more sleep tonight. He should try working on the commission pieces he had piled around the house- he had rent to pay after all- but he wasn’t positive he’d able to keep his mood out of his work and he’s not so sure his clients would appreciate the drastic change in ‘vision’.

Steve ran his hands through his hair and began pacing the kitchen. He had too much energy and no place to expel it too. He tried to do jumping jacks but the heavy weight in his chest, clenching around his heart and lungs,made him stop quickly. Homework was out of the question, he would never be able to sit still long enough to get any actual work done. Besides, all of his homework was done before he even tried to sleep. The only thing left was the big science project but Bruce and Tony were supposed to help him with that.

Tony understood a lot more about what they were trying to do anyway. Tony spent his whole life breathing in science and exhaling sex. Heck, he was probably up right now working on something he’d never show anyone.

Steve paused for a moment then moved quickly. Berating himself Steve went back to him room to dig out his cell phone. He quickly found Tony’s number and hit call before he could talk himself out of it. Several minutes later the phone was still ringing and Steve cursed to himself for even thinking about calling Tony. He couldn’t expect him to be awake every single night. Just as he pulled his phone away to press ‘end call’ he heard a breathless “Yeah, hi, who’s this?”

“Uh,yeah, Tony? It’s Steve.” Steve mumbled. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. Why did he think to bother Tony so late?

“Steve! Hey buddy, what’s up?” Tony’s voice came through as if he had he was on speaker phone and Steve distinctly heard a crash in the background that was soon followed by a light curse from Tony.

“I’m sorry for calling so late. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“What? Late? It’s not late, it’s only…okay never mind.” Tony paused and there was a shuffled before Tony’s voice came back louder and clearer. “What’s going on?”

Steve looked down at his lap and played with a long piece of string that unraveled from his shirt. “Oh you know, nothing much. I can call back another time. It’s really not a big deal.”

“No biggy. I’ve been up all night working on something and since you’re up and I’m up, you should come over so I can show off.”

Steve took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back. “I’ll be over in fifteen minutes.”

* * *

Five pep talks and seventeen minutes later Steve found himself face to face with a frowning Tony.

“You’re late.” Tony told him, gripping Steve’s arm and pulling him through a part of his home that was normally barricaded off during parties. Steve tried to slow him down to look at the paintings that lined the walls but Tony just kept pulling.

“I was only a few minutes late.”

“Yes, and a few minutes could mean the difference between life and death.”

Steve raised an eyebrow before shaking his head. Tony always did have to be dramatic. That was why Steve was not surprised when Tony stopped then in front of what seemed to be a metal door with a keypad beside it. Tony flung his arms out to present the door like a prize on a cheesy game show.

“It’s a very nice door, Tony.” Steve told him.

Tony snorted and flung his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “You joke now, Stevie, but you are about to get the privilege that only two other people in the world have gotten. You are about to see my workshop.”Tony smiled, showing as much teeth as he could, and flung his arm out to present the door again.

Steve bumped his hip against Tony’s. “Well, what are we waiting for then?”

Tony laughed as he grabbed Steve’s shoulders and twisted him around to where he was facing away from the door.

“Okay, prepare yourself.” Tony said. There was a clicking, which Steve assumed was Tony imputing a code into the keypad, and then large hands covered Steve’s eyes.

“Alright, this is going to be great.” Tony mumbled as he began maneuvering a blind Steve back toward the metal door.

“If you make me hit something or trip, I’m going to be mad.”

“Just trust me a little bit for once in your life. Okay, now stop right there and prepare yourself for awesome!” When Tony removed his hands Steve couldn’t help but to stare. The whole room was bigger than his house and was filled from floor to ceiling with wires, shelves, shiny metal tables, computer screens and what seemed to be a lot of spare parts from a car.

“I know it’s not much, but I had to keep the construction from my father. It’s a little bit of a thrift store feel, but it works for what I need it for.” Tony immediately went over to a table on the far end of the room and began messing with a large piece of metal that was nothing but a box and a robotic arm. “I’m sure I can get this working tonight.” He mumbled, pulling on a pair of goggles and picking up a soldering iron leaving Steve to explore the room by himself.

“Tony.” Steve managed to breathe out. “This whole wall is nothing by computer screens.” If this was ‘thrift store’ than Tony must think Steve lives in a dumpster.

“Oh, yeah. It’s actually a bit of a hazard. I’m working on an interactive hologram that way I can have that wall free. But it’s more of a two person job, which is why I’m making this little guy right here.”

“What is it?” Steve asked.

“It’s an assistant. I need more than two arms so I made a third! He’ll be voice controlled and even have a small level of independent thought, so if something happens to me it can help.” Tony smiled back up at Steve briefly before going back to a small panel on the side of the robot.

Steve smiled back brushing off some parts from a small bench and sitting down. “No one can come by to help?”

Tony shrugged. “Pepper and Rhodey come by sometimes, but their time is apparently more valuable now that they’re in college. Jarvis is here but he does enough as it is. And hey, you’re here now, but I’m afraid if I ask you to hand me something you’ll fall apart trying to lift it.”

“Funny.” Steve mumbled.

“Besides I needed someone to work with my schedule. Other people supposedly sleep and have a life outside of me, so I’m making something that this doesn’t need either.”

“That seems pretty depressing, Tony.”

Tony looked back up to Steve, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Oh yeah? If you want to get into that conversation, what exactly was it that had you running into my sweet embrace at four in the morning?”

“Point taken.” Steve chuckled. “Now finish your robot.”

“It’s already finished!” Tony stood suddenly, picking up the robot and placing it on the floor. “Now for testing!” Tony paused for a moment before smiling gleefully at Steve. Not breaking eye contact Tony called out “Turn on.”

Steve watched a shiver ran down Tony’s spine and two small beeps sounded from beside the table. “Voice activated!” he whispered to Steve.

Steve smiled back. “That’s incredible, Tony!”

“Right. Now comes the fun part. Testing phase one.” Tony declared moving to stand just in front of Steve, careful not to block his view. “Hand me that wrench.” The robot twirled its hand, delighted to be given in order and reached down to grab the wrench that Tony had placed on the table but instead in its claw hands it picked up the soldering iron Tony had yet to remove.

“What no, not that you idiot. The wrench. That’s the soldering iron.” Tony walked over and pried the soldering iron out of its claw before pointing to the wrench lying on the table. “That’s a wrench. Bring me the wrench.”

The robot whined and lowered its claw upset at being scolded at before it chirped back up and reached over for the wrench and placing it in Tony’s outstretched hand. Steve felt his cheeks started to hurt as he couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the small robot.

“That’s amazing, Tony. That’s really…that’s really great Tony.”

“Well, it’s a start.” He replied walking back over to Steve and sitting beside him.

“Now pick up every wrench and place it in the red box over in that corner.” Tony ordered. The robot chirped once before it began wheeling around the workshop.

“No really, I can’t believe you made that!” Steve said, still marveling at the robot.Tony just rubbed the back of his neck and leaned back.

“It’s not like ground breaking or anything. It’s just a stupid arm. Oh, but you know what we can do? We can present this as our science project.”

“As cool as it would be to see everyone’s faces, I don’t think it fits all the qualifications.” Steve laughed. “We’re supposed to present a project on what we learned this year, and I think we skipped the chapter on advance robotics.”

Tony snorted. “The only thing I learned from Mr. Richards’ class was that Ms. Storm likes to call him Mr. Fantastic as she orgasms, and the supply closet isn’t as quiet as he thinks it is.”

“Oh my god.” Steve groaned shaking his head. “I don’t think we can do a project on that.”

“With all the times I caught them, I think I have more than enough data to work something out.” Tony shrugged.

They both burst into laughter for a moment before settling down and watching the robot on the other end of the room place a wrench into the red box, reach in and take it out, and then place it back in.

“Hey, dummy, once it’s in the box leave it there and find a new wrench.” Tony called out causing the robot to chirp as it began to move towards a different area in the room.

“What a dumb little bot I’ve created.” Tony whispered.

Steve blinked over at Tony before choosing not to reply. The words didn’t seem to be for him and besides, he didn’t want to break the serene smile that seemed to have graced Tony’s face. They sat in comfortable silence just watching the robot twirl around the room. It glided across the slick floor, chirping a song as it worked. It was truly a really great invention and Steve wondered, not for the first time, why Tony kept so much of his intellect a secret.

“Steve?” Tony called from beside him. Steve looked up to see the full intensity of Tony’s gaze looking at him. There were several more moments before Tony blurted out. “Can I kiss you?”

Shocked Steve sat there staring at Tony with wide eyes, trying to figure out where that came from.

“Not in like a ‘I want to fuck you’ way or anything, unless that’s what you want, but in like a science way.”

“A science way?” Steve asked.

Tony grimaced. “Yeah, a science way.”

“I don’t think I understand what you mean.”

“Uh, okay, well, it’s like this: I need to experiment. I need more data. I know I’m known for having a lot of sex, and believe me it’s not a lie, but it’s not how people say it is. I mean it’s great, it is, it’s just different and I don’t know if it would be better if it’s someone I like or not.”

Tony didn’t move as Steve stared at him. This wasn’t a request he ever thought he would get from Tony. Yes, they’re friends and Steve knew more about Tony than most, but he also knew Tony didn’t get risk his friends with quick fucks. Tony had told him that himself as he drunkenly told Steve about why he and Pepper were such good friends.

“So you want to kiss me because…?” Steve asked.

Tony sighed, upset that Steve wasn’t catching on quicker. “Because Steve, I like having sex and kissing people and getting all hot and bothered because it feels good. Because I like the way it feels. But everyone always says that you’re suppose to look at someone and want to do that because it’s them, and it’s suppose to be magical because you want to be with that person. I don’t get that. I’ve never looked at someone and wanted to have sex with them because it’s them. I was trying to explain this to that girl I’ve been with for the last week, Sarah, and she got mad because she thought I was telling her she wasn’t pretty or something. She didn’t get it, no matter what I said, and I think there might be something wrong with me Steve. It’s just…never mind, it’s nothing. I haven’t slept in three days. Just ignore me.”

Steve reached up and gripped Tony’s sleeve as he trying to stand. “Okay.”

Tony looked back over at Steve, his mouth slightly open and eyes wide. “What?”

“It’s okay.” Steve replied. “It’s okay if you want to kiss me. I think I understand what you’re trying to tell me and if I can help, I will. And no matter what happens, I’ll understand.”

Tony nodded pressing his lips together.

There was crushing silence as neither knew what to do or who should move first before Tony surged forward and pressed his dry, chapped lips against Steve’s own soft ones.

Tony taste like day old coffee, Steve thought as he pulled away.

Tony stood squinting his eyes at Steve for several moments before shrugging.

“Well,” Tony started, “that was certainly- Hey no, you dumb little shit, that’s not a wrench. That holds that table up. Don’t move that.”

Steve laughed as Tony sprinted over to try to move the robot, swearing the whole time.

“I swear to God, I’m gonna name you Dumb Little Shit if you don’t fucking stop.”


	8. Chapter 8

If there was an alternate reality out there Tony, was sure it would be better than the one he’s in now.

Perhaps his parents wouldn’t stay away so for long in some far off place or perhaps Tony didn’t care as much about being alone. Perhaps he didn’t stay in school to be with people his own age or perhaps he moved forward for his own sake instead of caring about what would piss his father off.

Maybe, if an alternate reality was truly out there, he would have made a name for himself already so he could stop living under his father’s shadow. And maybe in some other world, he wasn’t so lost and broken. Maybe it didn’t matter at all to any other version of him. But to the version he is now- he cares.

He cares so much he wants to double over and clutch at his chest because it hurts. It hurts so much. It hurts when he goes places and all anyone can see is his family name. It hurts when girls look at him with lust filled eyes and the only questions they asked is if he wants to fuck them. (“What’s your name?” He wants to ask. “Your dreams? Your aspirations? Why me?” But the one time he did ask she laughed at him and told him he didn’t have to worry about that stuff. She only wanted to fuck after all.)

It hurts when he comes home to an empty house. It hurts when Jarvis is the one that wakes him up on Christmas morning. It hurts when the only time his father was home this year, he yelled at Tony for staying in high school and not just going to M.I.T. “I was already done with school when I was your age.” Howard had said to him and then, as if Tony wasn’t standing right there, mumbled, “What good was having a kid if he’s dumb as fuck?” and that was that was when Howard walked away and Jarvis places a hand on Tony’s shoulder to make sure he didn’t hit anyone.

It wasn’t the Tony wasn’t smart. It wasn’t that Tony couldn’t have already been through school ten times over. It’s just that Tony didn’t want to just be the boy wonder. He didn’t want to just be the kid that followed in a shadow was great Man. Tony didn’t need a piece of paper to define how smart he was. He already knew. Besides, at least this proved Howard knew SOMETHING about him. Anything was fine. Anything at all.

And it hurt, because kids his age as suppose to be loved.

 

He was loved, for a short time, and he loved back.

 

Sitting outside the school, phone in hand with trembling fingers, he tried to get his breathing to calm down as he debated making a call.

It was lunch and like every single day a mob of people fought over who was going to sit next to him. He didn’t know any of their names of course. Some were cheerleader, others were just people who thought high school was some sort of competition and Tony Stark was the prize. He would smile at them, and woo them with false stories of parties and sexual conquests and they would be enthralled.They would ask him about his next party, and a hand would sneak under the table to grab at his knee or his thigh and sometimes someone would be brave enough to venture upward. It took everything in him to stay there and fake his smile and continue on as if his skin wasn’t crawling.

It was his decision to stay after all. His choice and he had to live with the consequences.

He just wished he could have a normal lunch with Bruce and Steve and everyone else would just fuck off. But he didn’t get his wishes.

Today had been worse than most. His admirers were more energetic with idea of his upcoming party and hands seemed to be grabbier. He had gotten no sleep last night as he built his helper bot and Steve had come over halfway through with red eyes and pale cheeks and they both nearly had emotion breakdowns all over each other. (Even if Steve had acted like it was all okay. Tony knew the look in his eyes. He knew what loneliness looked like when you tried to hide it.) So when the hands wouldn’t leave him alone and questions wouldn’t stop and he could feel the breath of every person hovering over him he had excused himself to the bathroom and walked right out of the school.

He circled around the building till he found a spot across from the football field and slid down the rough brink of the building until he felt scratches along his back and his butt hit the ground. And then he dug out his phone and scrolled through is contacts until he found the one person he wanted to talk to and then just froze.

He couldn’t just call him because he was having a bad day. He couldn’t just call him to whine about pointless things because Tony was a big boy and he could handle his own shit. Besides Rhodey was in college now. He had his own shit to deal with and a whiny high school brat wasn’t going to Make his day any better. No he couldn’t call Rhodey because he already had too much on his plate, and Tony knew that he couldn’t take it if Rhodey told him he didn’t want to talk to him right now.

After that decision was made, he nearly called Pepper, but then he remember what he had told her the last time he spoke to her, drunk out of his mind and lonely as hell, and he didn’t want to continue or remember that conversation with the disappointed voice of one of his most precious friends running through is brain.

So instead, he sat his phone down and resisted the urge to scream. He looked forward with unfocused eyes, as he tried to get his thoughst to quiet down. Breathe in. Breathe out.

There’s no one out here with him but the wind and some skinny kid on the bleachers.

Wait.

Tony blinked several times, trying to get his eyes to focus and for one heart stopping moment Tony Stark sat there, back digging into rough stone and hands digging up clumps of dirt as anger ran through is veins.

Steve Rogers was sitting there, his small body curled protectively around a sketch pad.

Steve Rogers. The one and same that had showed up at his house at fuck o’clock last night looking like shit. The Steve Rogers who had saved his life as some assholes kicked the shit out of him. The Steve Rogers he had kissed last night. The Steve Rogers who had just smiled at Tony as he felt okay for the first time in a long time. The Steve Rogers that he had foolishly believed had a different lunch schedule then him because he knew his FRIEND Steve Rogers would have sat with him to offer some sort of sanity because that’s the type of person he is.

He shouldn’t have been so stupid. Tony didn’t have friends like that. Tony had friends who were only around with it convenience to them.

And that-That wasn’t fucking fair because Tony had proven himself damn it. He had been a good friend. He had let Steve fucking Rogers into his life because he fucking thought Steve fucking Rogers wasn’t like the rest and and and- No. Steve didn’t get to do that to him. He didn’t get to just- And that was that.

Tony pushed himself up, clapped his hands together to get rid of the dirt and stomped his way right up to the bleachers and then right up to stand in front of Steve. Steve looked up with wide eyes and clutching his sketch pad as Tony moved in front him. Several moments passed as Tony glared and Steve just looked at him stunned, and then to Tony’s astonishment Steve smiled.

Tony had to stop himself from stepping back at the warmth of the smile and opened his mouth tell Steve off or yell at him or anything really, but Steve spoke first.

“Got away from all your admirers, huh?” He asked. With that Tony lost all his anger and slumped down to sit on the ice cold bleacher next to Steve. Of course the people who forced themselves to Tony’s side wouldn’t let tiny nerdy Steve within five feet of him. Knowing Steve he had probably tried but Tony had been too preoccupied to notice.

“I thought you had a different lunch than me. Like Bruce.” Tony heard himself say. His voice sounded small and raw and he hated himself for it. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and plastered a smirk across his face.

Steve’s eyebrows came together and his forehead wrinkled and he looked over at Tony before he shrugged. “It gets a tad too crowded in there, so I come out here instead.”

Tony nodded looking around. “It’s nice. Quiet.”

Steve gasped dramatically and placed a hand over his heart as he looked over at Tony with laughter dancing in his eyes. “Is the great Tony Stark admitting he likes peace and quiet?”

“No.” Tony snorted through a small chuckle. "It’s grating at me as we speak. I’m wondering if I can find a way to blare music through those speakers.”

Steve chuckled and threw a lazy smile at Tony before turning back to his sketch pad to finish whatever it was that he was drawing. Tony didn’t try to look this time. He didn’t want to interrupt whatever peace they had surrounding them. Tony needed time to breath, and Steve seemed to subconsciously make sure Tony had it.

It was nice- them sitting there in silence. No need to answer pointless questions and act like…well anything really. He didn’t have to pretend to be anything he wasn’t.

It was prefect all up until the moment it wasn’t because just as Tony got the courage to say “So, about last night” heavy footsteps sounded on the bleachers. For a split second, as Tony looked to see who was here, he had to urge to stand up and place himself in front of Steve because Bucky Barnes stood at the bottom looking straight up at them.

Bucky Barnes, the kid who’s only reputation is that he’s silent as fuck and kicks the shit out of anyone who dared looked at him the wrong way, was staring up at them and Tony wasn’t sure what was about to happen but he knew Steve Rogers wouldn’t stand a chance against Barnes. Hell, neither would he, but he might be able to at least slow him down.

But Barnes was just staring up at them with large confused eyes, and Tony had a second urge to laugh because he seemed like a drowned cat who was confused as to why he got wet when he dived into water. He didn’t laugh of course because he wasn’t stupid, but the urge certainly grew when he watched Barnes geared up to turn around and walk away but Steve stopped that with a small “Hey Bucky.”

Barnes sighed and marched up to other side of Steve and sat down noisily. There was a tense awkward silence that crawled along Tony’s spine for a few moments before he looked over at Steve and Barnes. “Soooo, you’re friends huh?” He asked. Barnes opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and closed it with a huff as he looked over to Steve as if he was the only one that could answer that question. Steve was putting away his sketch pad in his pack as he shrugged.

“Yeah. I guess.” He said before looking over at Barnes and tilting his head to the side as if he wasn’t sure that was the right answer. Barnes nodded once before handing Steve a small tubberware bowl filled with pasta. Tony raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips together to stop from laughing. At least someone was feeding Steve.

Bucky bristled when he saw Tony’s expression as if he was getting ready for some kind of fight. Tony just tilted his head and he looked between Steve and Barnes, and this time he didn’t try to stop from smiling. Steve didn’t seem to notice whatever was happening between them because his attention was fully focused on shoving pasta into his mouth.

“This is really good.” Steve mumbled. It could have been in the direction of Barnes, but it could have also been just to himself. There was an expression on Barnes face that could be translated into amusement (very small amount) and Tony took that opportunity to stick his hand out and introduce himself. “Hi. Tony Stark.”

Barnes looked at the hand for a moment then back up at Tony and nodded- accepting the introduction but not willing to shake Tony’s hand. Tony wasn’t sure if this was a snub on him or just another weird quirk of Barnes’. He didn’t really care either way as he snatched his hand back. Steve seemed comfortable enough, so Barnes couldn’t really be all that bad.

Steve looked up suddenly, cheeks full of pasta, and he looked fast between Barnes and Tony. He swallowed his mouth full, and Tony was slightly worried he was going to choke. Steve just smiled them both. It was the kind of smile a child gave to his parents when they forgot to do something simple.

“Tony this is Bucky, Bucky this is Tony.” He introduce, his hands flying in front of his as he gestured from one person to the other.

Tony laughed, bumping his knee against Steve’s. “Yeah, buddy, I think we got that already. Thanks though.”

Steve smiled again and Tony had to force himself to not immediately smile back. Of course Steve was friends with the one kid everyone was terrified of. That was such a Steve think to do.

They all three sat there for a few more moments with Steve and Barnes eating and Tony just breathing in the fresh air. It wasn’t peaceful like before. Tony didn’t feel like he could just take a moment to breath. If anything he had an urge to fill the silence because Barnes still hadn’t said a word the whole time he was out here and Tony was beginning to feel his silence like a weight to his chest.

“Oooookay,” Tony said pushing his self up. “This has gotten a bit too awkward so I’m going to go ahead and head to class.” Tony turned to Barnes before he began his tread back. “Hey listen, I’m having a party this weekend and you can come if you want. Steve can give you the address. Just brink booze if you can.”

Barnes stared up at him, stone faced and silent. Tony rolled his eyes before swinging around and bouncing down each step as he called back “See you in class, Stevie!”

* * *

Bucky had not had a good day.

He had spent the whole night barring his soul into a small notebook before falling asleep at his desk with his neck twisting at an uncomfortable angle. He slept through his alarm clock and only woke up when Rebecca had bound into his room, still tired and rubbing her eyes as she tried to craw her way into his lap.

Bucky had woken up with a start and scrambled backwards quickly as he tried to place where he was and what was going on. Rebecca fell from his lap with a thump and Bucky fell backwards tripping over the chair that now lay sideways on the floor. This made Bucky's heart race even faster as he tried desperately to figure out where he was and what was going on as he gasped trying to get his air into his lungs.

Rebecca start crying from where she fell on the floor. A soft whine at first building into a near panicked scream as words bumbled out of her mouth is a cry of desperation. By time Bucky finally figured out what was going on and started to move to comfort her, his Ma and Pa had already burst into the room. His Ma quickly picked Rebecca up and carried her out of the room. Bucky desperately wanted to go with them but his vision blurred as he tried to stand, air still refusing to enter his lungs, and he quickly fell back over again.

His father picked up the chair that had fallen and kneeled down in front of Bucky. Hesitantly, he reached a shaking hand out as a form of comfort, but Bucky flinched back pressing his back against the wall. His father quickly took his hand back and instead just sat there next to him silently- a reassuring presence that Bucky wasn’t alone. Bucky stayed where he was, back against the wall, and tired to breath.

He desperately wanted to explain what happened, desperately wanted to go and hug Rebecca, wanted to tell his father it was okay. But he couldn’t do anything of that. Instead they both sat there not saying a word as Bucky listened to his Ma help Rebecca get ready for school. He heard her sniffle and a faint “But Mama, I don’t want to go school today.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes closed and pressed his face into the palm of his hand. This was his fault.

“James.” He heard his father call out. Bucky didn’t move as Rebecca’s words ran through his head over and over again. He heard his name called twice more before he finally opened his eyes. His father’s lips were pursed and his eyes were tight as he looked at him.

“James. You know everything is going to be okay, right? I know it doesn’t seem like it sometimes, especially on mornings like these, but it really is going to be okay.” His father told him.

Bucky nodded, not in acceptance or agreement, but because his father needed to hear it himself. It seemed to be a Mantra of his fathers, and though Bucky couldn’t speak the words himself, he can make it easier for his father. Eventually, once his breathing was under control and his father’s presence became stifling, Bucky stood and walked to Rebecca’s room.

His Ma had given in and allowed Rebecca to stay home today and now she lay curled up in a small ball on her bed. Bucky tiptoed his way into her room before kneeling down and pushing the hair out of her face. She opened her eyes to stare up at him before flinging her arms open for a hug. He picked her up and hugged her as close as he could without hurting her. Leaning against the side of her bed he silently held her in his arms as she buried her face in his shoulder and cried.

His father was right. It was days like this that he found it hard to believe things were ever going to be “okay”.

An hour later Bucky tucked her into bed. She had finished crying early on and instead clung to Bucky as she sung a lullaby she heard on one of her favorite shows. Bucky ran his fingers through her hair as she sang until eventually she began to doze off. Bucky slowly placed her in bed and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

He stumbled his way back to his own room to get ready for school. He might miss his first class, but he wasn’t going to let a morning mishap keep him from having a semi-normal life. He showered and got dressed quickly before heading downstairs. He father was nowhere to be seen but his Ma sat at the counter with the family recipe box in front of her.

She watched him as he dug through the fridge for his lunch.

“Are you still bringing your friend food at lunch?” She asked. Bucky looked up and nodded as he shoved a few items into his backpack and closing the fridge door.

She smiled, shuffling through a few note cards filled with family secrets. “What else do you think he would like? I’m thinking of trying some new recipes.”

Bucky looked at her for a moment before shrugging. He didn’t really know Steve all that well.

He Ma nodded at Bucky’s silence as if that was answer enough. “You should invite him over this Sunday. I’m thinking of trying out several new things and I need a new opinion.”

Bucky stood there, resisting the urge to shuffle from foot to foot as he thought it over. He knew what his mom was trying to do. He knew that this wasn’t about food at all, but asking friends over was normal, right? And asking Steve over seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Bucky swung his backpack around this shoulders and sighed.

“Okay.” He eventually replied. A smile spread across his Ma’s face as stood and walked over to Bucky.

“Good.” She said before waving her hands for him to start moving. “No get going. You’re already late.”

And he was late. He missed his first class, and he had to slink into his seat as he interrupted his second. Everyone in class stared at him as if he was a secret to be sorted out. Bucky only glared back as the blatant ones and didn’t bother taking notes, choosing instead to twirl his pen around in his hand and point at menacingly at anyone who refused to back down at this glare.

So Bucky had not had a good morning, and so he spent the remainder of his morning looking forward to lunch with Steve, where he could sit in near isolation away from eyes that wanted to dissect him.

Imagine his surprise when instead he was met with Tony Stark sitting in his spot next to Steve. Both Tony and Steve had a lazy smile spread across their face and Steve’s dimples shone through his pink cheeks.

Why had Bucky never noticed his dimples before?

Bucky stopped at the bottom of the bleachers, not knowing whether he should turn around and go back inside or not. All Bucky wanted was a nice worry free lunch and instead he got what could potentially be the most awkward lunch of his life. Stark was staring at him now and only Steve’s soft “Hey Bucky” stopped him from turning around has fast as he could and go far far away from here.

Bucky took a deep breath, climbed his way up to Steve's side, and suffered through lunch with Tony trying to make awkward small talk, and staring at him like knew everything Bucky was thinking. And when Bucky seemed to annoy him too much Tony stood up and announced loudly that he didn’t want to be there anyone.

Bucky resisted the urge to snort. Surprisingly, Stark didn't just stalk away, instead he turned towards Bucky, soft brown eyes barring into him, and invited him to the party he was hosting this weekend. 

Of course, Bucky was already invited, the whole school was invited. But to have Tony Stark personally ask you to come was nearly unheard of. He made grand announcements, and fliers. He didn’t go from person to person to stare them in the eyes as he asked. So Bucky just sat there, confused and silent, wondering what he could possibly do in this situation.

Stark rolled his eyes, annoyed yet again and simply left with a call of “see you in class, Stevie” over his shoulder.

Bucky waited for Stark to enter the school before turning to Steve. “Stevie?”

Steve looked up at him, cheeks once again filled with pasta. He covered his mouth, chewing quickly before looked back up to Bucky with a lazy smile. There were those dimples again.

“Uh, yeah. It’s…well its Tony. I get a new nickname every day.”

Bucky felt a smile spread across his face for the first time that day and suddenly the weight in his chest lessened and he didn’t have to try so hard to breathe.

“You know, you don’t really seem like the party type.” He teased taking the empty tubberware out of Steve’s hand and placing it back in his backpack. Steve laughed and raised single eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? What kind of ‘type’ do I seem like?” he asked.

“Oh, you know, the type that comes over for a nice family dinner at a friend’s house.”

“Why can’t I be both?”

Bucky leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. He squinting his face, pretending to think it over, as he turned back to where Steve sat smirking at him. “Eh, okay, fine, you can go to Tony’s party on Friday night and then you can come to my house on Sunday to help me and my little sister eat whatever Ma has planned to fix.”

Steve continued to stare at Bucky for a moment, with his smirk still in place, before digging his phone out of his pocket.

“Alright.” He said throwing the phone into Bucky’s lap. “Put your number in there and I’ll text you the address to Tony’s party and you can text me your address back.”

Bucky laughed as he entered his information into Steve’s phone and handed it back. Satisfied Steve raised his phone up and called “smile” just the flash from Steve’s phone went off. Momentarily blinded Bucky blinked several times at Steve.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Contact pic.” He said, holding the phone up to where Bucky could see it. There in all his glory sat Bucky’s face completely off center, one eye larger than the other and a double chin. All in all Bucky’s not sure he’s taken a less attractive picture in all his life and he’s including when he had braces and pimples.

“Delete that.” Bucky deadpanned starting at the picture in horror.

Steve merely smirked, holding his phone up to view the photo like a great prize. “No. No I don’t think I will.”

“Delete it or I will.” Bucky growled.

“No. It’s perfect. “ Steve stuck his tongue out and cackled- CACKLED- when Bucky surged forward to try to take the phone back. Bucky ended up with his arms around Steve as he tried to pry the phone out of his hands and Steve pressed back against Bucky to try to push him farther from the phone.

“Come on, Steve, this isn’t fair.”

“Life’s not fair.”

Bucky laughed curling one of his arms around Steve to try to get a better reach. “You’re such a jerk.”


	9. Chapter 9

If there was one thing Bruce Banner hated, it was waking up on a park bench in freezing winter air.

It was just his luck though, that it happened more often than not and this morning was the same as the three before it- Bruce waking up to his breath mixing with the cold morning air, a layer of dew spread thin across this skin and clothes, and him shivering as he ran his hands up and down his arms trying to get rid of the goose bumps marring his skin.

He scrubbed his face with the palms of his hands and stood up to stretch. No one was in the park this early except a few early morning runners and most of them was used to seeing Bruce curled up on the bench so no one paid him any mind.

He coughed slightly, clearing his throat and took a deep breath before turning around and walking to the fence that ran the length of the park. He put on foot on a large rock that had sat there since he was a kid, jumped up, grabbed the top of the fence with his hands and pushed himself up and over. He landed feet first in a small yard that ran along the other side of the fence and crept through it to a small yellow house. Eventually he came to a small window that was framed with white wood worn near the bottom from years of him using it as a foot hold as he snuck out.

He pressed his hand against the cool glass and pushed up listening for a squeak that would give him away. He let out a breath when no squeak came and pushed himself into his room landing softly. Looking around his room he pressed his lips together as he saw the strewn items that had been carelessly thrown to floor in drunken rage and sighed before sitting on the edge of the bed and placing his head in his hands. He squeezed is eyes closed and told himself that crying was useless and weak.

This was his life, and if he was going to cry about it, he might as well roll over dead.

Instead he took a deep breath, stood up, and looked around one more time. This was his fucking room. In his fucking home. (Supposedly his fucking home, because god forbid a home be an actual home.) This was his goddamn stuff that his good for nothing drunken shit faced father had decided needed to be ripped up, stomped on, and sprawled across his floor. Bruce snatched items off the floor: clothes, pillows, books, his laptop, and every item from his backpack- all of which was torn or broken in some fashion.

His laptop would be the hardest to replace. It had been given to him by Tony when he decided to make his own. Bruce wouldn’t be able to afford a new one. As for the stuff in his backpack, his English textbook was destroyed. At least he kept the rest of the stuff in his locker so he’ll only have to find a way to pay for one textbook. The homework he had just finished was gone too. It’s not like it mattered. Steve and Tony would help redo the stuff for chemistry, he could take a pass in physics, he was doing well enough in trigonometry for one grade not to completely fail him, and well he was already failing English anyway. What would one report matter?

Bruce crumpled up all the torn papers and threw them in the trash by his bedside. He set the broken items on his bed for to be looked at when he returned home from school. Maybe he could fix some of them. He took all the school work he could salvage along with the cleanest clothes he could find and shoved it into his backpack.

He wasn’t going to stick around this house any longer than what he had too, but he had spent nearly all night sleeping outside and was in desperate need of a shower. If he left now he might be able to make it school to use the showers that were in the gym. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He swung the backpack over his shoulders and lightly walked out of his room towards the kitchen to see if there was anything he could scrounge up.

“The hell you think you’re doing, boy?” he heard a voice call out just as he got to the edge of the kitchen.

Bruce froze, every inch of his body preparing itself to run as fast as humanly possible. God damn it, Bruce thought. He knew he shouldn’t have pushed his luck. He fucking knew it. Bruce wondered what would make his father angrier: Answering him, or staying silent. Truth is it probably wouldn’t matter.

“I’m just leaving.” He ended up mumbling. The kitchen door was about three feet way. If his father made a move towards him, he might be able to get through the door before his father reached him.

“Yeah? Where you going?” His father slurred. Did he even stop drinking for a moment?

“School.”

His father let out a razor sharp laugh before he began stumbling his way into the kitchen. Bruce quickly side stepped to make room for him. It wouldn’t do any good to antagonize him farther. Just stay still, small and silent. That’s all he has to do.

“School is for people with a future, boy.” His father told him. “You ain’t got any kinda future.”

Bruce balled his hands into a fist by his side and clenched his jaw desperate not to say anything that would make his father angry. If he played his cards right he could get out of here with nothing more than a few harsh words directed his way. “You hear me?” His father asked. “You better damn well answer me when I speak to you.”

“Yes sir.” Bruce gritted out.

“You might as well turn back around and get that hopeful look outta your eyes. You ain’t gonna be nothing but a drunken bastard like your old man, so stop wastin’ everyone’s time.”

Bruce nodded, gritting out another yes sir as he turned around and head back to his room. It took everything he had in him to not throw a fist into the wall as he gently closed his bedroom door. Instead he quickly turned around and shoved himself out the window he first came in through. He made his way around the house and began his morning tread to school.

* * *

If there was one thing Natasha Romanoff found beautiful, it was the sunrise.

It was the only thing in Natasha’s life that had always remained constant, and always would remain constant.The sun will set each night, and in the morning it will rise again. If Natasha is alive to sit wherever she may be and watch it, well then, that was the world’s gift to her and she was never one to squander gifts.

Every morning she woke up three minutes before her alarm clock went off, took a shower and got dressed for the day, checked Clint’s room to make sure everything was okay, then wiggled herself out of her window and onto the roof on the house to watch pinks fade into oranges and black fade away as the sun rose and lit the world. There was once upon a time when she didn’t have the luxury of sitting still to watch the sun rise and there was once upon a time when she didn’t know from one day to the next whether she would ever have that luxury again. Every morning, sitting on the rough roof, she promised herself she would never have such uncertainty plague her again. That promised was echoed in her mind by something she thought she’d never have. It was echoed by the voice of someone she trusted making the same promise to her. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe a promise like that could be kept, but she did believe he would try to keep it no matter what and that was all she needed.

After she tired of watching the sunrise she climbed back through her window, made her bed, and made her way back to Clint’s room. His alarm clock was blaring at top volume, the loud beeping piercing the house, but Clint still lay in bed with a soft snore completely unfazed by the obtrusive noise.

Natasha resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she grabbed the corners of Clint’s blanket jerked it off of the bed. Clint’s snoring hitched before he snuggled closer to his pillow and resumed his snoring. Natasha smirked as she walked around to the other side.

“Cliiiint.” She called taking his hearing aids off the bedside table and placing them in his hands. Without thought Clint placed them in his ears before wiggling a bit to get comfortable and relaxing back into sleep. “Time to wake up.”

Clint mumbled what could have been a soft ‘no’ and buried his face into the pillow he had his arms wrapped around. Natasha’s smile widened as she climbed into bed with him. Clint began to stir a little bit more he moved towards her. “That’s right Tasha.” He mumbled. “It’s called sleep and it’s...” Clint’s voice trailed off into a jumbled mess as he fell back into unconsciousness.

Natasha maneuvered herself to where one foot, boot and all, was positioned on Clint’s stomach and then pushed as hard as she could. Clint went flying off one side of the bed and Natasha flew off the other. But unlike Natasha, who landed on her feet, Clint went down with a large dull thump and a soft groan.

“Goddamn it Tasha. Do you have to do that every morning?” Clint asked.

Natasha danced over to the side of the bed to smirk down at Clint sprawled across the floor. “If you woke up when you were supposed to then I wouldn’t have too.”

Clint smiled up at her from the floor. “Well the joke is on you.” He told her. “I can sleep perfectly fine on the floor.” To prove his point he rolled over, curled around himself, and closed his eyes with the intent of never waking again. Natasha quickly jumped over him to grab one the discarded pillows from the bed and she began hitting him with it repeatedly.

“Think you can sleep through this?” She taunted. Clint sputtered and she twisted back around and tried to grab the pillow each time Natasha landed a blow, but her grip was a lot better than his and each time he managed to grab a hold of the pillow she quickly yanked it back out of his grasp.

“Okay, Okay.” He said, a low whine seeping into his voice. “I’m up. I’m up. You win.”

Natasha stopped in her attack to stare down and him, waiting for him to move. He sighed before picking himself off the floor with his hands raised in surrender before grabbing some clothes and making his way towards the shower. The smirk on Natasha’s face turned into a small smile as Clint walked out of her eye sight and she began walking the opposite way towards the kitchen.

There was a time when Clint woke at the smallest of sounds. He would wake as she tossed and turned in her sleep. He would wake as mice scuttled along the floor or when wind hit wherever they were staying just a tad too hard and long. He would never get more than a few hours of restless sleep a night as he ran away from whatever he was running from and she began to believe the dark circles under his eyes were permanent fixtures on his face. Now it took legitimate effort to get Clint out of bed each morning because he decided he was safe enough to lay there dead to the world and snoring up a storm and that was something she never thought she would be grateful for.

She walked into the kitchen and wasn’t surprised to see her and Clint’s adoptive father already mixing pancake batter for breakfast.

“Good Morning, Mr. Fury.” She greeted him as she did every morning. He looked up slightly surprised and smiled.

“Good morning, Natasha.” He greeted back. “Do you mind getting started on the bacon?” She nodded as she walked towards the cabinet to fish out a pan before getting the bacon out of the fridge.

Every morning for the last year her and Mr. Fury woke up before the rest of the house and made breakfast. At first it was so that Natasha could keep an eye on him and look out for when the other shoe would drop but slowly over time, as Natasha began to trust the man who looked her in the eyes and swore her that she would never have to run again, it became merely a morning routine. Something she could count on happening every morning just like the sunrise.

Natasha never thought she would have so many things to be grateful for in her life.

After the Bacon was finished cooking and the last of the eggs were sizzling in the bacon grease, Clint walked into the kitchen dripping water all over the floor like he hadn’t even bothered to use a towel after his shower. Humming some song he heard on the radio, Clint went to work gathering plates and silverware and setting the table.

Natasha caught Mr. Fury sneaking amused glances at Clint and shaking his head.

Mr. Fury’s wife, Ms. Maria Hill, walked in after Clint and went around the kitchen and leaving a fond kiss on all of their heads before taking her place at the table. She was already fully dressed for work with her hair pulled back and tablet in her hand. After the table was fully set and everyone was digging into the food, Natasha looked up to see Clint sitting across the table and looking up at her with a small smile. His real one. The one she didn’t get to see until she had known him for close to two years. If there was one thing she would give up the sunrise for, it was Clint’s smile.

* * *

Steve Rogers was not a fan of mornings.

They started the same every morning, with Steve staring up at his ceiling in the dark with paint smeared across his cheeks and his eyes burning with too little sleep. He knew that if he turned to glance at the glaring lights on his alarm clock they would read a full hour before it was set to off and he knew that even if he squeezed his eyes shut he wouldn’t be getting anymore sleep. At least he had finished up the his latest commission last night, just barely making his deadline, and he could breathe easier knowing that he wouldn’t have to work himself to death to make rent next month.

Rubbing the palm of his hands against his eyes he turned slowly and pushed himself out of his bed. His muscles ached, he could almost hear his knees creak, and his chest felt like cinder blocks had been placed on top of him. All in all his body was screaming at him to curl back under the sheets and sleep for seventy years. But Steve knew even if he did close his eyes and mange to drift off, he’d wake again soon and in no better shape. Instead he lightly stumbled through the dark to reach his computer in the corner and turn and it on.

There was no sense in wasting time not sleeping when he could be working to get some extra cash. He never knew what would come up and he the thought of him being caught off guard again made his stomach ache and the need to throw up build at the bottom of his throat. No, it was better if he just kept working like normal.

When his computer finished booting up he brought up his personal webpage for his art and with skilled fingers changed the phrase on the corner of the page from ‘Commissions Closed’ to ‘Now accepting commissions’ and left his email address and a link to contact him with. Not knowing what else to do after that he gathered up some clean clothes and took a quick shower.

After his shower, he fixed himself a small bowl of cereal and stared at the granite counter tops as he ate. They were the newest thing in the house.

His mom loved to bake when she had a chance. Mainly she baked when she would get home from a long day of working at the hospital and still had the energy to not immediately fall into bed which were rare days. But when she did bake she would go out shopping for everything they needed and spread them out of their old counters like they were presents underneath the Christmas tree. Steve would come home to see his mother smiling large and a bag of flour cradled in her arms like a baby.

“Stevie.” She said the moment she caught sight of him. “Let’s bake.”

With a wiggle of her eyebrows she tossed the bag of flour to him and he laughed easily tumbling back from the weight.

“Can’t I at least finish my homework first?” He asked sitting his backpack down and placing the bag of flour on the counter.

“Homework can wait.” She waved off searching in the cabinet for a spice she forgot to place on the counter.

“Of course. Of course.” Steve laughed sliding next to his mom to pluck his own spices from the cabinet. “What are a few grades on some paper when I can spend quality time with my mother?”

“And don’t you forget it!” She smiled flicking him on the nose. “You and I both know that your homework wouldn’t get done anyway. You’d walk right into your room and see some unfinished art project lying around and you’ll get sudden inspiration and forget all about your homework until five minutes before class when you try to finish it against the door to your locker.”

Steve squinted up at her with pursed lips that were threatening to break into a smile. “I’d believe you were some kind of psychic if you didn’t get one very important fact wrong.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d finish it at least six minutes before class.”

Steve found himself smiling at the memory of his Mom’s laughter. Later she had begged him to draw pictures on the cooling cookies calling each one a masterpiece that would sell for millions if she didn’t plan to eat each one that night.

“You know what would make this cookie an even better masterpiece?” She asked him that night. Steve shook his head no- his mouth full of a cookie that his hand had slipped on while drawing. “If you had a better work space. Aren’t you tired of scrubbing at the cracks and dents in the counter after we bake. Don’t you wish we could bake on something that you could just swipe your hand across and it’d be clean?” She leaned against the counter with an aged dishrag in her hands and eyes staring into nothing.

“I don’t think that’s how cleaning works.” Steve snorted. “But I’m pretty sure that’s everyone’s dream.”

“Then let’s do it.” She smiled wide before moving behind Steve to give him a tight hug. Six months later with every penny saved and a friend who promised them a good deal, Steve and his mom set to work installing the new counter tops themselves. When they were finished Steve stood in the doorway watching his mom run her fingers over the counters.

“So what do you think Stevie?” She asked.

“We could open our own bakery.” He said smirking.

She laughed and nodded back with the far off look in her eyes again. “Yeah. We could, couldn’t we?”

Less than a year later she was gone and Steve was left alone to look at the countertops at five in the morning feeling sorry for himself as his cereal got soggy.

Steve sighed getting up to rinse his bowl out and to get out a sketch pad. He might as well get started on his next project. Standing in the middle of his room after getting his sketch pad and colored pencils he hesitated for just a moment before grabbing his phone. Settling down once again at the kitchen counter he sent out a single text before getting to work.

* * *

Tony woke with a start.

His eyes flew open only to squeeze closed nearly as fast in the blinding lights of his workshop.

“Stopit.” He mumbled to his bot who was currently running into his leg over and over again. The bot whined low but backed off a few feet.

Tony reached for his phone, squinting as he checked for notifications. Nothing. Sighing he dropped the phone before burying his head in his arms and ignoring the crack that rang through the room as the phone bounced off the floor. --

* * *

A low buzz sounded beside Bucky’s pillow and his hand jerked up to turn it off before his brain caught up with the rest of him Groaning low he pulled his phone to his chest before rolling over to try to smother it so it didn’t make another sound.

Not nearly long enough after he faded back to sleep the shrill sound of his alarm sounded jerking him right back out of sleep. After several moments filled with groans and his parents knocking on the door, Bucky finally pulled himself free from bed only to notice his phone was clutched tightly in his hand.

Sighing he swiped his thumb across the screen to find a message waiting.

_'Good morning. : ) I was thinking…Since your house is on my way to school, do you want to walk with me?'_

Bucky yawned and blinked a few times to try to clear his vision before taking a look at the message one more time. A smile crawled across his face as he typed up a reply.

_'Morning. And sure, we can do that.'_

* * *

“Hello?”

Bruce jumped as the voice sounded throughout the gym showers. He turned grasping for his towel as soap ran down his face into his eyes. He rubbed the soap off then wrapped the towel around his torso not caring that the shampoo hadn’t been rinsed entirely out of his hair and was running down his back. He just had to- He had to get out of here.

But the voice was coming from the only entrance he knew of and he didn’t have nearly enough time to get to an air duct. Not that he would do that of course- he wasn’t a coward- but facts remained he didn’t have time to turn off the water let alone find another exit. Sure enough just as he reached to shut off the water in walked the owner of the voice.

“Ah. Hello.” He said.

Bruce turned to see Thor standing right at the exit. His shirt off with sweat running down muscles that could only be achieved artificially, long hair tied in a haphazard pony tail, and pants he had already unbuttoned and was currently in the process of shimming down his hips completely uncaring that Bruce was standing right in front of him.

“It’s unusual that I get company when I take my shower after my morning workout.” Thor stated throwing his pants off onto a bench.

Bruce shuffled from foot to foot wondering if he should just leave or try to come up with come excuse. What exactly were the protocols in these situations? Before he could make a move though, Thor smiled and gestured towards the still running shower inviting Bruce to go back under the spray as he walked to his own shower head and turned on the water.

“I think it will be a nice change to have company.” Thor said still smiling. “You’re Bruce, right?” Bruce nodded removing his towel and walking back under the spray of the water wondering why in the world Thor knew his name.

He didn’t know Thor-personally at least- but Thor had a reputation. An ‘everyone in the school knew and loved him so he was the center of attention’ kind of reputation. He walked the halls with a smile plastered across his face and a friendly hello to anyone who greeted him and anyone who bought in the social hierarchy of school did. Bruce wasn’t one of those kids.

He was the kind of kind that flattened himself up against the wall trying to blend in anytime Thor walked by. Bruce didn’t want to be noticed because the kind of attention you can get from someone like Thor couldn’t be good for a guy like him. But they were alone and though Bruce knew he it was a stupid thought, he didn’t think Thor would try anything against him. He didn’t seem like the kind of person to cause someone pain just because he could. So he stammered out a small yes when he noticed Thor had taken out his hair tie and had his head leaned back so he wouldn’t be able see Bruce’s nod.

“Yeah. I see you around school – hand me the soap, would you?- You hang around with Stark and Bitty Steve.” Thor said.

“Um. Sometimes.” Bruce handed Thor the soap trying not to get shampoo in his eyes again. “But I don’t think Steve likes being called that.”

Thor looked over at Bruce for a few moments before nodding two distinct nods. “Then I shall stop.”

After that both were silent as they finished their showers. Bruce finished quickly, only having to finish rinsing off, and turned off the water reaching for his already soaked towel. At least he’d be able to get a new one on his way out. Unlike at home there always seemed to be fresh towels here. It was a little bit like heaven.

“So, Bruce.” Bruce turned to see Thor turning off his own water and drying off his hair with his towel. “May I ask who did that to you?” Thor asked.

“What?”

“That, my friend.” Thor said pointing a finger at his face. Bruce brought his own hand up to touch his cheek already knowing without a mirror that it would be swollen and starting to bruise. God damn it. Why can’t his father act like every other abusive parent and at least try to hide the marks.

“It’s nothing. Just tripped. I can be clumsy sometimes.” Bruce smiled as though he was amused at himself as he starting moving towards the door, and Bruce damn well knew it was a convincing smile because it was the same one he used on every other person who started asking questions and they always smiled back as if it amused them too, but Thor didn’t sound amused as he started talking before Bruce could even take a step.

“And went head first into a cinder block?” he asked. “Those were the same excuses my brother use to give when he would come home with his face black and blue but the funny thing was I lived with him my whole like and never once saw him trip. He was a graceful man. And you, I may not know you well but I have gone to school with you since elementary and again I have never once seen you trip.”

“Thor-”

“I’m here every morning, you know. Best gym in town and it’s free. I’ve never seen you in the gym, and I know you are not in any sports, but I see you using these showers at least once a week and each time with some new injury. I assume from all the tripping you’ve been doing in your free time.”

“I get it okay. I get it. I won’t come back.” Bruce interrupted. His heart was pounding in his chest and his lungs felt so tight he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get another word out. “I get it.”

Thor shook his head water dripping from small stranding glued to the side of his face. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what the hell is it that you’re saying because I’m sick and tired of playing this fucking game.” Bruce growled. This was enough. It was fucking enough. Too many people thought they could just play with his head as if it was nothing. And Bruce didn’t care what it took but it ended. It ended now.

“I’m saying I’m the only one that uses this gym in the morning and it can get a little lonely. I wouldn’t mind company every now and then.”

Bruce turned walked straight out with his hands clenched to his side and a “fuck you” thrown over his shoulder. --

* * *

Bucky walked out of his house and stumbled down the few steps from his porch to the sidewalk when he spotted Steve standing underneath the small tree that stood in front of his home.

There Steve stood looking out towards the sunrise that glowed through his blonde hair creating a small halo around him and making the shadows play across his face highlighting only certain features. His pouty lips- that quite franking, Bucky was fucking floored he's never notice before- and the deep purple paint the was stripped across his cheek like war paint that only make his blue eyes stand out even more as Steve turned to Bucky and smiled. And although Bucky had never wanted to learn traditional art, suddenly he hated himself for never learning because he knew art when he saw it and Steve was pretty much its definition.

Bucky could sell him to a museum, ill fitting plaid shirt and all, and people would pile in just to catch a glimpse- And holy shit. Where the fuck did that come from? Wow. He obviously hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night because those were the weirdest thoughts he had ever had. He’s just gonna stop now. Yup…

“Hey Buck.” Steve greeted with a small wave as he began walking. Bucky said a small greeting back as he followed closely behind very careful not to let his mind wonder into weird territory again. He already had enough weird letters to Steve in his desk drawer. He didn’t need any more.

“So do you just eat, sleep, and breathe art?” Bucky asked pointing to the paint smeared across Steve’s cheek.

“What?” Steve asked reaching his own hand up to rub at his cheek. “Is there still paint there? I thought I had gotten that off.”

“Nope. Still there.”

Steve sighed placing his hands back in his pockets. “Never work with oil. Biggest pain in the ass to clean.”

“I can see that.” Bucky laughed. “So were you trying to turn yourself into a walking art project or what?”

“Nah. I was just finishing up a commission this morning. Sometimes it just doesn’t feel like art unless you get a little messy you know?”

Bucky didn’t know, but he certainly had an idea. “Commission? You mean like some rich asshole thinks there should be a portrait of him displayed above his fireplace for all to see so he hires you?” he asked.

Steve laughed rubbing as his cheek once more before placing his hand back in his pocket. “Sure sure. But mainly I get requests from restaurants or clubs.”

“Clubs? Like girl scouts?”

“Eh. More like Waves.”

Bucky stopped walking to stare at Steve for just a moment because he couldn’t mean- “Waves? You mean the club so exclusive that the Starks are barely even rich enough to enter?”

Steve just nodded gesturing for Bucky to continue walking.

“But the Starks are like the richest people in the country.” Bucky said. “You’re telling me you have art work in that club and they asked you to do it?”

“Yeah, I guess. I thought it was a joke when they contacted me but it turns out it wasn’t. I was a really fun piece to do too.” Steve sighed. “Kind sad to see that one go actually.”

“Wait wait. Does that mean you can get into the club?” Bucky asked.

Steve’s eyebrows drew together as he turned to Bucky who was just now falling into to stride with him. “No? Why would I be able to do that?”

“I don’t know.” Bucky said. “As a thank you for such an all your hard work?”

“Trust me. The check they sent me was more than enough thank you. I actually had to send some of it back since they sent more than the agreed upon price.” Steve shrugged.

“You- What?” Bucky laughed swinging his arm over Steve’s shoulders. “Well that settles it.”

“What?”

“That settles it. I’ve got to see this art piece so we’re gonna find a way into this club.”

* * *

Natasha leaned back in her chair only half listening to a lecture that was given every year in English on Shakespeare. Instead she was staring at the person slumped over in the seat next to her- Bruce Banner.

Half his face was covered in a large bruise she didn’t have to guess how he got and she knew no teacher would ask. Only a pencil sat on the table and his backpack on the floor next to him was missing one more band than yesterday. He was pointedly not looking at her despite the fact that he must feel her eyes on him.

Instead he stared at the desk below him. He hadn’t once looked up to meet anyone’s gaze the entire time he had been in class. In a small way he reminded her of Clint when she first met him. In another way, a way she was less likely to admit, she knew he wore the same face she did every time she looked in a mirror before she was able to stop running. She gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to break something.

Scum would always scurry along like rats on this earth and the kids would be the ones to suffer. One or two saved did not make a difference in the long run. Fury said all they could do was save the ones they could and take down as many rotten pieces of shit as possible along the way, but it didn’t matter how many they took down as long as there were people who suffered merely inches away from her. Not when she had no idea how to help.

Natasha slide over her textbook and placed it gently on Bruce’s desk when she noticed he was the only one not turning to the page number directed on the board. Maneuvering the extra textbook from the self next to her to her own desk she didn’t dare look over at Bruce.

She knew anger would be the only think she could see in his eyes.

Or worse yet- Confusion. --

* * *

History was not one of Steve’s preferred subjects. It seemed as though history was a stale story that never changed no matter who it was that told the story and the monotone uninterested voice of Mr. Howlett did not make it any better.

The vibration of his phone against his thigh was the only thing that stopped Steve from drifting off to sleep as date after date flew through his head with no real connection. Careful not to gain anyone’s he shimmed his phone out of his pocket to see a text from Bucky.

_'So how well can you do a French accent?'_

Steve’s eyebrows drew together before he typed in his own reply. _'Not so well. Why?'_

It didn’t take long before his phone vibrated again.

_'Just planning how we’re gonna sneak into Waves. It’d be easier if you knew French.'_

Steve looked up to see Mr. Howlett going on about the importance of strategy and not paying much attention to anyone but the kid in front who was stupid enough to start snoring.

_'Sorry?'_ Steve quickly typed in not even bothering to put his phone back in his pocket for a reply he knew would come quickly.

_'It’s okay. I got it. You’re gonna dress like a superhero.'_

Steve eyebrows came together as he tried to imagine exactly what Bucky was thinking.

_'What? Like a comic book?'_ Steve asked.

_'No like real life, you dork. We’ll say there’s a supervillain inside and you’re the only one that can stop him.'_ Came Bucky’s reply. As if there was really any other choice.

_'Sounds foolproof.'_ Steve typed in still watching Mr. Howlett as he talked in depth about the element of surprise in any battle and slowly walking to the poor kid’s desk that didn’t have the willpower to stay awake.

_'Perfect. And I’ll be your sidekick so I don’t miss out on the fun.'_ Bucky replied just as Mr. Howlett stopped at the foot of the desk.

_'Can you do a French accent? This will only work if you have a French accent.'_ Steve typed. Everyone in the seats around him braced themselves for what will surely happen just moments from now.

_'Haha. Funny.'_

_'I know.'_ Steve typed just as Mr. Howlett's hand came crashing down on the kid’s desk. The desk itself cracked under the force and the kid who was sleeping moments before sprang up eyes wide and with a cry of “Oh god no.”

_'Gotta go. Prof. X might be on to us. See you at lunch. ;)'_

Before Steve could reply Mr. Howlett turned to him with a horrifying promise in his eyes. “Don’t think I don’t see you texting, Rogers.”

Steve quickly pocketed his phone to give his entire attention to class without a single word. Satisfied Mr. Howlett walked back over to his desk, propped his feet up and continued on about which battle took place when.

A few seconds later Steve was lost in his own mind again as he sketched out what him and Bucky would look like as superheroes.


	10. Chapter 10

Steve leaned against the wall feeling each beat of music as it thrummed through the house and holding a cup filled with something that burned his throat right down to stomach every time he took a drink. It was warm now even though it had been ice cold when Tony had shoved it in his hands when he first arrived. Steve had only seen Tony a handful of times after that. Each time with a different girl on his arm and none of them from their school. 

Tony’s mansion was packed full of sweaty bodies. Nearly everyone was gripping a red cup or a bottle that seemed to never leave lips. The front room was cleared completely out of any type of furniture and instead was a wide dance floor that nearly everyone in town, from school or not, was taking advantage of. The only light that lit of the room was a soft strum that light up in time with the music. There were no visible speakers but the music thrummed from the walls making everyone’s hearts beat in sync as it ran through their bodies.  
Steve knew that if he was in the middle of the dance floor all he had to do was close his eyes and he could believe he was floating on nothing but music. He had done it enough times at Tony’s parties, but tonight he didn't feel like having to fight his way through hundreds of unidentified people drunk as hell. 

Attached to the dance floor was large staircase, fit for any princess, or Stark, to walk down. It led to a long series of bedrooms. Each one with a sign on the door that could be changed to read ‘Empty’ or ‘Occupied’. Steve knew from experience that each room also had condoms and lube set on the bedside table for any party goers who took advantage. Stark of all people knew exactly what went on during his parties.

On the left of the staircase was a large kitchen, of which was filled to the brim of every alcohol and snack food known to man, and a dining room large enough to hold everyone in the house so that people could interact without deafening music. 

“Not that they’d want too.” Tony had told him during Steve’s first ‘Tony’ party. “But I aim to please and to each their own and all that.”

The dining room even led out to the back yard where there were even more drinks, music, and even a few carnival games set up. 

Tony always went all out and he was far enough away from neighbors that the police were never called. Tony’s parties happened often and they never lost momentum. 

But Steve had gone to more parties in this house than he really wanted to think about which is why he wasn’t one of the people exploring each new faucet of house or trick or turn of the party, and he wasn’t one of many bodies pressed up against each other drunk off music, physical contact, and alcohol. Instead he was in a small hallway on the opposite side of the kitchen. Most didn’t notice it due to it being hidden in the darkness by carefully placed lights and those who did easily left once Steve explained where to find the rooms.

With the illusion of isolation party he took a deep breath and slid down the wall, still enjoying the beat of the music against his back, and sat his ignored drink down as he twirled his phone in his hands. 

He ran a finger across the screen checking again to make sure his message sent. 

Where are you? Sent 9:37pm 

No reply. 

That was okay. Some people didn’t show up to parties till much later preferring to show up after everything had already gotten into swing and Bucky had never actually told Steve when or even if he was going to show up. But at the very least he should have the decency to text Steve back so he can stop worrying and actually get drunk enough to enjoy his night instead of sitting in a dark corner alone with his worry and warm alcohol.  
Steve jumped as a warm arm suddenly enveloped his shoulders and looked over to see Tony’s smiling face. It took a second too long to realize that he was trying to talk to him. 

Steve shook his head slightly and untangled himself from Tony before pointing to his ears and shaking his head in a more definitive motion. There was no way he would be able to make out what anyone was saying with the loud music filling every inch of the house. 

Tony nodded in understanding before setting both cups he had in his hands down and motioning to person standing behind him and fumbled out letters in sign language. 

‘C-L-I-N-T’ Tony signed before smiling widely and swinging around to motion to him before signing ‘S-T-E-V-E’ to the guy that Steve can only assume was named Clint. 

After stumbling through both names Tony gave them both a thumbs up and left quickly with both cups back in his hands. 

Clint turned to look after Tony’s retreating form with an amused expression on his face and Steve took a moment to reevaluate how much he had to drink because the only thing that was going through Steve’s head was how good looking Clint was. Purple combat boots laced high led to tight skinny jeans that made his ass look incredibly squeezable, and that led Steve’s eyes to a worn graphic tee with a purple target in the middle and then to a lip ring and a piercing on the top of his ear covered slightly by dirty blonde hair that was tousled in front of his forehead making him look like he just finished having sex. Steve wanted to run his own hands through that hair. 

Tony just loved to make his life interesting and it was times like these that Steve found it hard to be angry about it. 

Clint turned to smile a lopsided grin at him and Steve grabbed his cup and downed the last bit of alcohol at the bottom before smiling shakily back. 

‘You know ASL?’ Clint signed with a small tilt of his head. Steve nodded pointing once again to his ears were small hearing aids sat. 

Clint grinned again walking over and sitting down across from Steve and pointing to his own hearing aids.  
‘So do you think he introduced us because he knew we both had hearing problems or because we’re both hot?’ Clint asked his hands moving fast and graceful. 

Steve’s eyebrows drew together concentrating on each sign before replying with much slower movements.  
‘Tony can be an asshole, but not that big of one.’ Steve said before noticing Clint’s raised eyebrow and quickly adding, ‘I hope?’

Clint’s shoulders shook with a small laugh before he looked around the small hallway they were both seated in. 

‘Nice hiding spot. Dark, lonely, depressing. Everything a teenage brooding soul needs at a hip party.’ Clint signed with confidence and seemingly no time delay between thought and sign.

Steve shook his head narrowing his eyes in concentration trying to understand every movement. 

‘Sorry. Can you sign slower? I don’t get much practice.’ Steve asked, hands hesitant.

Clint nodded with a slight frown on his face. ‘Would you be able to hear me speak if we were away from the music?’ 

Steve nodded running his hands through his hair with embarrassment. This always seemed to happen when he ended up speaking to someone with ASL. They seemed to know exactly what they were doing and he was left behind desperately trying to catch up. His mom had tried to get him into groups when he was younger so he could have somewhere to learn and fit in but it had the opposite affect and since then he hadn’t tried all that hard. 

He looked back up at Clint expecting him to roll his eyes, get up, and walk back to the party leaving Steve once again alone and twirling his cell phone. Instead he found Clint pushing himself up off the floor and holding out a hand towards Steve. He jerked his to the right trying to encourage Steve after seeing him hesitate.  
Steve looked up into Clint’s eyes and didn’t see malice or annoyance like he would normally expect, but curiosity and maybe a tad bit of impatience. Seeing Clint’s lopsided smile again he smiled back and reached up to grab his hand only to be immediately pulled up and out of the hallway. 

Clint didn’t slow down a bit once they were out on the dance floor and Steve found himself saying sorry every few moments as he was pulled and pushed into person after person. Steve squeezed Clint’s hand tightly as they pushed past the last few people to get into the kitchen. 

Clint smiled back at him as he grabbed a few bottles of Jack Daniels from the impressive lineup of alcohol and began pulling Steve back through the dining room, out into the back yard and over to the side of the house.  
Once they reached the far side to where the fence that lined the property was, Clint let go of his hand and smiled wide before using one hand to grip the edge of a window seal and pulling himself up to using the momentum to land a foot on the edge of fence propelling him farther up the wall. 

Steve held his breath as he watched Clint climb up the wall, setting the bottles in his hands along window sills along to the way to get a better grip but picking them up just as fast. He didn’t pause until he swung up over the roof and smirked down at Steve motioning for him to follow. 

Steve swallowed looking at the path the Clint had taken up and knowing that he didn’t have the upper body strength to make it ten inches up, let alone three stories to the roof. He looked around trying to spot any other way and noticed a small tool shed a few feet away. 

He raised his finger telling Clint to give him a minute and walked over to the shed. Over on the side was a large ladder that Steve swung quickly over his shoulder so that it leaned against his back. The bottom of the ladder dragged across the ground as he pulled it along towards the side of the house. 

A few moments later and Steve had pushed the ladder up against the house and was on the roof watching Clint’s shoulders shake with laughter. 

Up on the roof the music seemed more of a dull drum in the background as opposed to the only thing in the air and he was able to hear the halting sounds of Clint’s laughter. It wasn’t anything he expected. Clint looked like he would have a deep clear laugh the resounded through the air. Instead he laughed as if he was just learning after years of going without. 

“Is this better?” Clint asked after catching his breath. 

Steve nodded watching Clint open up one of the bottle of Jack. 

“Good. Don’t worry. It’s not anything against your signing. It’s pretty good. But I plan on getting shitfaced and trust me you don’t want to try to follow what I’m saying then.” Clint took a swig from the bottle and handed it to Steve. “Then it’s just a big mess of random hand gestures and me trying to combine different signs.” 

Steve laughed taking a small sip and handing the bottle back to Clint. “I have enough trouble as it is. I don’t want to try to read a whole new language.” 

“Wow. You’re voice is a lot deeper than I thought it was going to be.” Clint took the bottle back taking a large gulp before speaking over Steve’s questioning thanks. “I hope you know Russian then ‘cause I tend to forget what language I’m speaking once I really start drinking. But don’t worry, I think it can be pretty easy to follow.” Clint took another large gulp before passing the bottle. 

“Is there a particular reason why you’re trying to drown yourself with alcohol?” Steve asked not bothering to take a drink himself before passing the bottle back. 

Clint nodded. “For the same reason you were in that dark corner sulking, I assume. We pine and pine and end up alone.” 

“Someone broke up with you?” 

Clint laughed taking another drink. “Something like that. My fault. It really is, but I regret it you know. She’s perfect. Strong, beautiful, funny. I think that’s why I did it. She’s too good for a guy like me. She deserves someone…” Clint paused looking down at the bottle in his hands and worrying his lip ring between his teeth. “Not so broken I guess.” 

Steve nodded leaning his shoulder against Clint’s. “We’re all broken. Maybe she’s just better at hiding it than most.” 

“You’re right.” Clint said leaning his head against Steve’s. “But some of us are chipped while others are shattered. You can still use a chipped bowl. There isn’t any use for shattered one.” 

“I wouldn’t say that. I shattered this bowl a couple of months ago. I just dropped it like an idiot and it went all over my kitchen floor. So I picked up all the pieces, crushed them up farther and used them to line the edges of a painting I was doing. It sold for five thousand dollars. I won’t have to worry about rent or food for a few months. That shattered bowl was worth a heck of a lot more than the chipped one currently in my sink.” Steve leaned away from Clint to smile up at him. “Just because you may think something is worthless, don’t mean other people do.” 

Clint smiled small and thin at him before passing him the bottle. “You live by yourself, huh?” he asked. 

Steve snorted shaking his head. “Very tactful way to change the subject.”

Clint shrugged. “I just bared my soul to you like point two seconds. Your turn.”

“Yeah. I live by myself.” 

Clint nodded. “I lived by myself for awhile. I know how hard it can be. You ever need anything just ask.” 

“I can handle things on my own.” Steve pressed his lips together. He was small but he’s proven time and time again that he can take care of himself and he was tired of being doubted. 

“I don’t doubt that. You’re already doing better than I ever did, but unexpected things happen and it can take a lot of stress off knowing you have a place to go.” 

Before Steve could reply his phone vibrated in his pocket and Steve jumped trying to get to it quickly. Swiping his hands across the screen he saw that Bucky had finally replied. 

‘Sorry. Can’t make it. I’ll explain on Sunday.’ It read.

Steve sighed not even bothering to reply before shoving his phone back in his pocket. 

“That the person who stood you up?” Clint asked. 

“What?”

“Tony said you got stood up. Let me guess. The text says: So sorry. Can’t make it. Please understand. Blah blah.” Clint swung his head for side to side his lips pressing together as if he had eaten something sour. He paused a moment rolling his eyes before taking another drink. 

“Sumthin’ like that.” Steve mumbled trying not to get too upset. Bucky had never really said he was going to show up, Steve had just assumed, but he also hadn’t said anything when Steve have assumed he was going. If he was planning on not showing up, he would have said something wouldn’t he? Instead of having Steve wait by the door like some kind of lost puppy. 

This wasn’t a date so he didn’t get stood up, but this was something. Something that made Steve’s heart pound and cheeks go red with embarrassment over a misunderstanding. 

Clint hummed in acknowledgement and passed the bottle over to him. Steve looked at the remainder before downing every last drop and falling back against the rough tiles of the roof. Clint just laughed opening the other bottle and patting Steve on the stomach. 

“So why didn’t you try to stick it to them by finding someone cute to make with instead of find a cave to hide out in?” Clint asked. 

“I wasn’t hiding!” Steve huffed. 

“Oh yeah, what were you doing then?”

“For your information the spot I was sitting in is one of the best spots in the entire house to feel the music other than the middle of the dance floor.” 

“Why weren’t you on the dance floor then?” Clint asked. 

“Alone?” Steve gasped. “And commit social suicide. I think not.” 

“Oh yeah. Cause you’re already a social god.” Clint rolled his eyes, a teasing smirk playing across his lips. “Why didn’t you find someone to dance with?” 

Steve shrugged turning his head to look up at the sky. There wasn’t a single cloud and despite being so close to the city every star was clear and bright. “I don’t find it that easy to introduce myself in large social situations or any social situation really. You said it yourself, I’m a social god.” Steve lifted his hands to place quotations around the word god before dropping them back down to run his finger tips along the rooftop. He probably wasn’t helping his reputation any with this conversation. 

“I don’t believe you.” Clint said. “First of all, you’re friends with Tony Stark. That takes a shit ton of skills. I don’t care what anyone says. Second of all, I’ve gone to like every one of his parties, cause they’re kickass, and by the end of the night you’re always making out with some cute guy. Not that I’m stalking you or anything. You’re just a familiar face at this thing.”

Steve laughed watching Clint’s face go from disbelieve to embarrassment. “First of all, I have no idea how me and Tony became friends. We hated each other. And second of all, Tony is the one who always introduces me to the cute guys you see me with.”

“Tony always introduces you…” Clint’s eyebrows were drawn together before widening suddenly. “Wait, Wait. Does that make me the cute guy of the night?” he asked before a large grin broke across his face. “I am so honored. Oh my gosh, I would like to dedicate this moment to every little guy out there who thought he couldn’t make it. If I can make it, you can.” Clint raised his bottle towards the sky in a salute laughing before falling back against the roof and turning to look at Steve. 

Steve covered his face with his hands, laughing himself. “It’s not like that. It just always seems to happen.”  
“Oh no, I get it. I’m hot, you’re hot. Who wouldn’t want to see us totally make out all hardcore. I wanna see us make out. Bet we can film it and become internet famous.” Clint looked at Steve with wide glossy eyes waiting for Steve’s response but what could Steve possibly say to something like that. 

Suddenly Clint sat up pursing his lips. “You need more sex appeal. I mean not that you’re not hot in the cute nerd way, but you’re wearing a plaid shirt to a party for god’s sake, and not even as the second layer either. So just let me give you an industrial piercing please, please.” Clint begged clapping his hands together in front of him. Steve nearly gave in right then and there after noticing Clint’s pouting lips. 

“A what?” 

Clint pointed to his our ear where a bar went through the top. “It’s even cooler with us because we have our hearing aids and this says we don’t care if anyone notices or not cause we’re too cool for them anyway.” 

“I don’t think I’m too cool for anyone.” Steve said watching Clint and wondering how he wasn’t falling over with how much he had to drink tonight. 

“You will be once I pierce your ear.” He didn’t even bother to wait for Steve to reply before standing up and jumping down off the roof the same way he came up, completely ignoring the ladder. 

Steve looked over the edge to see Clint motioning for him to come down. “Let’s go you big chicken.” He called. And with that Steve climbed down the ladder set with determination.  
\--  
Tony Stark threw a damn good party. Not just a damn good party, but a fucking amazing one. One where the alcohol never stopped flowing, everyone like the music, and there were food and games to last a life time.  
Hell, one time it took a week to clear everyone out of him after a particularly memorable party. And no matter how many times he threw one, people always begged for more. He always went out of his way to make sure his guests had a fantastic time too. Especially friends. 

After seeing that Barnes wasn’t going to show up, Tony quickly found someone who Steve could have an every better time with and introduced them. Tony hadn’t seen them since so he could only assume the he was the best matchmaker and they were taking advantage of one of the wonderful accommodations he had set up.  
Tony was sure if he could get Steve alone later he could hear all about how amazing tonight was for him.  
Tony hadn’t seen Bruce much, but that wasn’t unusual. He tended to show up and disappear just as fast. 

That left Tony, reigning over the party at the top of the staircase, a bottle of something he didn’t care to read the label of in his hand. It burned going down, but he didn’t much care. The party moved around him leaving him behind to drink himself to unconsciousness staring at his guests searching for people he knew would never show.  
\--  
Bruce hated parties. He hated Tony’s parties even more. It seemed all of New York showed up to drink themselves into oblivion and make out with strangers. 

Honestly Tony could start charging for admission to his parties and he would easily make a million in a night.  
Bruce had his own reasons for showing up at each one though, and he tried to remind himself of them as he slid through the door and fought his way through the dance crowd barely resisting the urge to cover his ears with his hands at the music that grated against every one of his nerves. 

Keeping his head down low he weaved in and out of sweaty bodies. Finally reaching the side of the dance floor he ducked inside the kitchen relief flooding through him at not having strangers press up against him any longer only to run head first into someone. 

Recoiling he stammered out apologies wondering if it would be better to retreat through the claustrophobic dance floor or the through two near empty rooms to the door that led to backyard. 

Neither idea sounded like a good idea to him, and both made him feel like a coward. He wasn’t a coward. 

“No. I’m sorry.” A voice said and Bruce looked up to see that the person he had ran into was the girl that sat next to him in English. Natalie or something like that. She had slid her text book over to him during class and when she realized he didn’t have his and when he tried to return it after class she had just looked at him in confusion, held up the text book she held in her hands and said, “No, this one’s mine. That one must be yours.”  
Now he had ran straight into her nearly giving her a black eye after she had given him the biggest favor of his life. Fuck. 

“I’ve had a little too much to drink tonight. I should be more careful where I’m walking.” She said smiling up at him. He blinked a few times trying to process her words over the brilliance of her smile. 

“No, no. I haven’t had anything at all to drink. I’m really more at fault here.” He said, smiling his own small shaky smile. 

She laughed shaking her head and slowly reaching out her hand to take his. “Let’s just say it’s both our faults.” She said leading him to one of the bar stools that ran along the counter and motioned for him to sit down. Digging around in small purse that hung on to her side she pulled out a small container. 

“Every time I’d have some sort of bruise or black eye I’d rub this on it and it would go nearly twice as fast.” She said opening it up and dabbing it with an index finger. “Do you mind if I put some on your eye?” 

“What is it?” 

“Secret recipe. Promise it won’t show if I put it on though.” She held up her finger again, clearing waiting for permission and Bruce nearly sighed in relief that she hadn’t just started dabbing it on. 

He nodded once not bothering to close his eyes as she starting rubbing the cream along the bruise on his cheek. 

“I tripped.” He told her. It was better to stop questions before they started. 

“I didn’t ask so you didn’t have to lie.”

“I didn’t lie.” He snapped at her causing her to withdraw her hand and take a step back. 

Pursing her lips she closed the container and placed it back in her purse before taking a deep breath and pointing to the piercing in her eyebrow. 

“You see the scar above my piercing?” She asked taking a step closer to Bruce so he could get a better look. “I tripped too. And the scar across my lips, I ‘accidently’ pulled out a piercing. The scar across my shoulder here, I ran into a door. And this one right here,” She told him pushing up her shirt to show a large pink scar that ran down to the side of her ribs all the way to her stomach. “I stumbled right into a knife. It was a freak accident really. No one could have predicted it. Except for maybe the person I had been lying for all those years.” 

She sighed taking in Bruce’s narrowed gaze and clenched hands. “I get it. I really do. You think it’s just a few more years, right? You can survive that long. You’re not weak and it’s not like anyone would believe you anyway. Besides they have to have their reasons, they’re your parents so whatever they do to you, you must deserve right? Plus they need you. Who’s going to take care of them and keep them alive when you’re gone. All they’re trying to do is help you and you’re the one not listening.” 

She glanced up at him, eyes unreadable. 

“You’re wrong.” She said. “You’re wrong and they’re wrong. They’re so wrong. They’re pathetic and weak and nothing but cowards. And you’re so strong for surviving this long, but Bruce one day he’s going to kill you and it’s going to be for nothing. He doesn’t need you and you don’t need him. Family doesn’t mean anything unless you make it mean something and trust me, no one who is family would do something like this. This is your life. Live it like you want to. I’m not going to interfere but you are kind and strong and you deserve so much more than a half life. You deserve love.”

They sat in silence for a few moments as her words sunk in before Bruce finally replied back. “It’s an impossible dream.” 

“I believed that too, once upon a time. But you see, you’re wrong again. I’m willing to stand by your side. My foster dad is a social worker and he’s more than willing to stand by your side. He also knows this lawyer who’s really good at getting secrets out and if that doesn’t work, my brother, he’s real good at setting up hidden cameras. There are always options. You just have to find the courage to accept them.” 

She paused looking over at Bruce’s narrowed eyes. He was inches away at lashing out at her. Just because she had scars didn’t mean she knew anything about his. She didn’t have the right. As if a few words were going to change his life. 

“This is your life. Nothing is going to happen until you want it too.” She took pulled out a piece of paper from one of the drawers in the kitchen and scribbled something across it before sliding it over to him. “This is my address. My family does this whole big dinner every Saturday night and Clint and I are suppose to bring friends to show we’re ‘assimilating’ or whatever. It would be doing me a real big favor if you showed up since I haven’t brought anyone yet. If anything else, it’s a hot meal and you can stay over afterwards. Clint’s pretty cool to hang out with.” 

This time Bruce didn’t bother to reply to her. He didn’t want to have this conversation to begin with and he certainly didn’t want to continue it now that she’s said nearly everything he had wanted anyone, anyone at all, to say to him. And now that she’s said them, he would give nearly anything in the world to have her take them back. 

“I have to find Clint.” She ended up breaking the silence. “Just think about it, please.” 

Bruce didn’t look back as she walked out the door. He just grabbed a plate and piled it with food before moving towards the dining room, pocketing the piece of paper along the way.  
\--  
Tony pushed the girl up against the hallway wall, gripping one of her legs underneath her knee to pull it up around his waist and using his other hand to push the painting behind her over and off the wall. 

He trailed his lips along her jaw and down to the small patch of skin right above her collarbone. 

“God the things I want to do to you.” She gasped. Tony’s hand gripped her ass and slid down and back up to reach under her skirt and trail the edge of her lace panties. 

“The things I am going to do you.” He replied smirking against her skin. He trailed his lips down pushing her shirt up as he went, not surprised to see she wasn’t wearing a bra. He took one of her breasts into his mouth and pressed his fingers underneath her panties. 

She moaned pushing up and off the wall into his hand just as a shrill noise rang out. 

Tony pulled up shocked for a moment before realizing that the noise was his phone. 

“Shit shit, ‘mm sorry.” He said, fumbling around in his pocket. 

“Leave it alone.” She whispered trying to grab his hand and pull it back to cup her ass. 

“Okay, Okay.” Tony said bending down to drag his teeth along the goosebumps on her skin. She moaned gripping his hair in her hands and pulling him back up to smash her mouth against his. Their teeth clanked together and she laughed taking his face with both her hands and bring their lips together slower. 

Tony heard his phone go off again, but this time he ignored it in favor on grabbing the girl around the waist and pulling her against him. 

“Not fair.” She told him. “We still have all our clothes on.” 

Tony laughed and ran his hand under her shirt across her back. “If we take a few steps to that room over there we can see as much of each other as we want.” 

She laughed again stepping away to look over her shoulder at the door. “Okay.” She shrugged. Taking the corner of his shirt she laughed once against and began pulling him towards the open door. 

“Tony?” A voice called from the opposite side of the hallway. “Tony? Are you up here?” 

Tony froze.  
“Oh.” The voice said. “I didn’t realize you were with-”

“No. It’s uh-” Tony cleared his throat. “It’s okay. We’re done.” 

The girl looked back and forth between them before looking at Tony confused. He nodded untangling her hand from his shirt. “Enjoy the rest of the party.” He told her. 

She smiled rearranging her clothes. “He’s cute.” She whispered before walking past both of them and down the stairs. 

Sighing, Tony straightened not bothering to pat down his own clothes. He turned looking at the young man that stood just a few feet away. Entirely too far away and yet so much closer that Tony thought he would get anytime soon. 

“Rhodey.”


	11. Chapter 11

When Bucky was little he had a smile that left people starstruck. At least that's what his mother always told him. And maybe, although he'd never admit it, it's what Bucky remembers too. 

One smile from him and the whole world smiled back. In kindergarten when Bucky wanted to stay awake during nap time to finish coloring all he had to do was smile brightly up at his teach and come up with some nonsensical excuse and she'd let him sit at her desk and finish it while all the other kids had to take their naps.

In fifth grade when decided that John Lowery needed to be taught a lesson about pushing people around on the playground, he put glue in his chair right before the bell rang that left John Lowery pulling pushing to get out of his chair,and all he had to do smile sweetly up at the principal and swear he had nothing to do with it. The principal just patted him on the should and said," I know Mr. Barnes, you're a good kid." 

He remembers sitting on the edge of the lunch table surrounded by friends as he tells a story about how to fought a snake in his back yard. They all smiled back excitedly nodding along as he explained all the details in his daring adventure.

He remembers smiling down at Betty Coal as he steals a kiss at the dance just before one of the teachers catches them and yelling at them to stop hiding. 

He remembers smiling when him and his dad would go on their monthly outings. Whether they went to a baseball game or camping Bucky would always come home happy and exhausted smiling up at his mom before giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I'm gonna sleep for a million years." He'd tell her. She'd ruffle him hair while teasing him telling him if he did that he'd miss dinner. 

He remembers smiling at his mom from across the table one morning while eating breakfast before he asked, "Do you think I'm gonna have a sister, or a brother." 

And while he can't seem to remember why no matter how hard he tries, and god does he try, he remembers smiling as he took a shortcut home one day only to have his path blocked by a pudgy man smiling a smile that made a chill run down Bucky's back. 

He doesn't remember smiling much after that. 

Though they would always tell him to smile. 

"One day, you'll see." They'd say. HE would say. "We are not cursing you. We are giving you a great gift."

After he remembers pain. And screaming. and begging. and hopelessness. 

Lying wake each night he thinks to himself that he will never smile again. Not in this life, and probably not in the next either. 

Yet now, staring at himself in the mirror, fresh out of the shower with clean clothes and his hair pulled back , he clutches is phone in his hand cause there is undeniable proof staring at him in the mirror that he can once again smile. 

Tony Stark's party. Party of the century. Well more like party of the week cause that's when the next one will happen as Stark always tries to go bigger and better. But still. It had been a long time since anyone has invited him to go anywhere, and longer yet that he's actually wanted to go. He had imagined the whole week showing up at the party with Steve. Dancing. Drinking. Talking. Smiling. 

Bucky runs his hand through his hair, wincing before redoing it in his hair band. 

"You can't go in those jeans." He heard Rebecca's from his bed. He turned to find her sitting there staring at him with a small frown. 

He tilted his head to the side at her before looking down at what he's wearing with a frown. 

"They have holes in them." She muttered standing up to jump on his bed. "Mom said you can't wear play goes when going somewhere 'portant because they have dirt and holes and that means we don't care. That's why I had to wear a dress to papa's birthday." 

Bucky smiled at her before reaching over to pick up off the bed before she could fall and hurt herself. She seemed oddly put out about being place on the floor before shrugging and climbing onto his chair and grabbing a pencil and paper to start drawing. 

He wondered how she came to the conclusion of what he should and shouldn't be wearing before shrugging and realizing that maybe she was right. Maybe he shouldn't be wearing jeans with holes in them. Turning and running his hands through his hair, once again ruining it, he looked at the time on his phone. It was already an hour past time for the party to start. If he wasted any more time trying on clothes and looking at himself in the mirror he risked the potential of being incredibly rude to Steve which meant the he probably would never speak to him again. Jeans with holes in them or not he needed to start moving to get there soon. Besides he didn't think Steve would really be the type to care what he wore. Leaving Rebecca to her drawing he grabbed his leather jacket and made his way down the stairs and waving bye to his mom as he headed to the door. 

"Home by one!" She called. "No exception. And I want a text every thirty minutes telling me you're okay." 

Bucky nodded, not even bothering to roll his eyes. It made him feel slightly less nervous knowing his mom was looking out for him. 

He smiled one last time before opening the door and rushing outside to his bike. This was a big step for him. He was finally going to do it. He was going to go to a house that was dark and loud and surrounded by strangers and he was going to be just fine with it. Better yet, he was going to be happy about it because he was going to see Steve. And if the night went well maybe even get a little drunk and hold his hand. 

He couldn't stop smiling for three blocks as he made his way towards Tony's house. By the fourth block Bucky's smile had faded. The head lights that had pulled behind him after the first block hadn't turned away yet. 

He took a deep breath trying to calm himself. It had only been a few blocks. They would turn away soon. 

After another ten minutes and five turns Bucky was in full survival mode. He didn't believe in coincidences anymore and he knew that van. Years ago he had been pushed and gagged inside of that van, and now, now they've come to do it again. 

Bucky didn't even bother about being subtle about it. He sped up the bike as fast as he could and turned down a street that would take him the opposite way he was headed. Noticing the headlights still behind him he cut a corner fast and took three more turns that took him out of neighborhoods and into the city. He raced through the street twisting through as many cars as he could trying to put as many obstacles between himself and the van as fast as he could. 

He cut three more corners before turning into an all night breakfast place. Parking his bike behind a dumpster away from the street he quickly walked in trying to keep is pace as casual as possible. Ignoring the hostess he quickly walked to the corner booth where he could keep an eye on the door. 

A waitress came up handing him a menu and he pointed to something random trying to get her to leave quickly. 

It was only when spots began to appear that he realized he wasn't breathing. 

It was a few minutes later that he realized that his hands were shaking uncontrollably. 

He tries to breath in few breaths opening and closing his hands. Panicking would do him no good now. He had to remain focused. Ready. He knew he couldn't hide from them. NO truly, not if they had found him. But he could make it hard for them to disappear again. To become imaginary stories. 

Another waitress brought his food by and a few hours later it still sat there untouched Bucky's eyes never leaving the door. Two couples, three families, two teenagers, and one sleep deprived young adult had walked through the door so far. None that Bucky recognized but he wasn't naive enough to think that they couldn't be working for HIM. Anyone could at any time. He knew that from experience. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he jumped knocking his glass of water over. A young waitress looked over at him, her eyes filled with uneasiness. Bucky didn't even bother smiling to reassure her before looking down at his phone. Fifteen missed messages from his mother. The last few stating that she had called the police because she hadn't heard from him. and exactly one from Steve. 

He send a quick message to his mom telling here where he was. Then he spent several minutes writing and rewriting his message to Steve. What could he tell him? How could he possibly explain without sounding like a goddamn crazy person? 

How could he explain everything that he's feeling and put it into one message. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to- he wanted to- he. He.  
He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be who he was. He didn't want to be so broken and alone and afraid all of the goddamn time. 

All he really wanted to do was sit by Steve on the benches at school and watch him draw.


	12. Chapter 12

Thor was not having a good night. He had come to Stark's party only because his team dragged him along promising him a good time. They knew that he was having a tough time right now but not what exactly troubled him and Thor knew the only way to keep the questions to a minimum was to go along with them until they became distracted. Lo and behold not five minutes in his entire team had abandoned him for other things. 

And now Thor found himself sitting near a quieter part of the house nursing a beer and wondering if he could walk home from here and if anyone would notice. Chances were slim, he hadn't seen anyone he recognized within the last thirty minutes. At least until he noticed a small body making his way from the house to a large tree on the outskirts with a plate of food. Not even thinking Thor quickly followed the same path. 

"Do you mind if I join you?" 

"Fuck!" Bruce jumped knocking at least half of the chips off his plate onto the ground. Both Bruce and Thor looked at it with dismay. 

"My apologies, my friend. I did not mean to sneak up on you. I've been told on more than one occasion that my steps are as loud as thunder and that I couldn't sneak up on anyone if I tried. I suppose tonight proves that wrong then."

Bruce looked up at Thor, eyes wide and mouth spread into a thin line, and Thor wondered if for a moment if he was still angry and would just run without saying a word. He smiled when instead Bruce's eyes lit up with a fire and settled back down against the tree. 

"I'm not going to move." Bruce said popping a chip in his mouth. 

"That is fine, I do not need you to move to join you. There is plenty of ground here." Instead of sitting though Thor laid across the grass using one arm as a pillow so he could gaze up at the stars. 

Ever since he was a little kid Thor dreamed of living in the sky. He would share adventures with his brother of battles and kings and magic. At night they'd curl up together and whisper their stories until both feel asleep. Now that's he's older he stays wake most night, without his brother, and writes everything he can remember down. Thor needed to keep at least a little hope in his heart. 

He blinked as a chip entered his vision and Thor gladly accepted it. 

"Do you ever dream of living up there?" He asked pointing up. 

Bruce looked up for just a moment before looking back down at the ground. "It's lonely enough on Earth. I can't imagine space." He took another bite from a chip decidedly not looking at Thor. 

"True enough. Even with friends it seems the world is empty sometimes." 

Bruce snorted. "What would you know of being lonely?" 

"What indeed." 

They both sat there in uncomfortable silence. Thor still staring up at the sky and Bruce crunching chips. Neither wanting to speak but neither willing to leave. It wasn't until all of Bruce's chips where gone and people had began filing out of the house back to their own that the silence was broken. 

"So what are you doing here, Thor? With me I mean. I'm sure you'd have a lot more fun inside."

"Another day and perhaps you'd be right. But today I think I'd rather be in your company." Thor turned to smile a small smile at Bruce. "You know?"

Bruce nodded, even if he didn't truly understand, and moved to lay besides Thor. 

"So, what would you do living among the stars?" Bruce asked and for the first time he saw a genuine smile from Thor. 

"My brother and I would be princes." Thor began, and Bruce watched as he dove into stories and memories with barely a look back.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Tony asked after a long moment. This- he wasn't expecting this. He was expecting to wallow in hatred and self pity for the remainder of the night. Not be interrupted by Rhodey of all people.

"Nice to see you too. Missed you too. ect. ect." Rhodey snarked. "Come on Tony. I see these filers all over the school about a party you're throwing and I don't even get a text from you. Haven't gotten a text from you in weeks. Of course I'm going to come." 

Tony didn't move. "Yeah well, you didn't text me either."

"Pepper told me what happened. I thought you'd want space." Rhodey said, a crease forming between his eyes. The air was stagnant around them, the way it is just before a large storm hits.

"Yeah well, thanks for the space, really enjoying it." With that Tony turned around walking into his room and slamming the door. It took less than a second before he heard knocking and Rhodey's voice from the other side. 

"Tony. Tony what's going on? Are you okay?"

"Fine." Tony managed to grit out before climbing underneath the blankets on his bed and steadily ignoring Rhodey's request for Tony to open the door and talk to him. 

It only took a few minutes before Rhodey figured out Tony had never locked the door. He felt the bed dip as Rhodey sat down. Neither of them bothered talking. Rhodey knowing Tony would never answer and Tony too stubborn. Instead Rhodey climbed underneath the blankets and wrapped himself protectively around Tony mumbling a soft apology. 

Instead of answering Tony closed his eyes and listen to the soft thrum of music from downstairs. This was how it always was with Rhodey. He was always there for him. It didn't matter what Tony did or said. It didn't matter how hard he pushed Rhodey away. In the end it always ended up with both of them side by side. 

"I think I'm broken." Tony whispered into his blanket. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm broken. I'm not fucking normal. I can't keep this up Rhodey I can't. I can't keep thinking that I'm this person when I'm not."

"Tony, what are you talking about?" 

Tony huffed, sitting up and turning to look over at Rhodey. Tears threatening to spill over and Tony hated himself for it. 

"At first it was about being more like him. I just wanted him to like me Rhodey. He didn't have to say he loved me. He didn't have to say he cared about it. I just wanted my own father to just look at me. And so I, I don't know, acted out I guess. and I made sure that one day he caught me with a girl in my bed. And he did look at me then. Like father like son, he said. And god I'd never been happier than that moment. " How pathetic was that? Tony thought. Hell, maybe his father was right. Maybe he was too needy. 

"So, I just kept it up, you know. I kept sleeping with girls and guys and just anyone who'd have me. I thought that was what I was supposed to do. and I pretended to be my father. I pretended to enjoy it and love it. I pretended that person was who I was." 

"But it's not." Rhodey answered his unspoken question. 

"No, no it's not. I hate it. I hate pretending that I want it. That I enjoy it. I never got it, Rhodey. Normal people are suppose to want it right? They're suppose to want to have sex. They're suppose to feel attraction with they look at someone, right?"

"No." Rhodey said. 

Tony snorted. Leave it to Rhodey to not even blink when Tony gives a life shattering confession. 

"You don't have to lie to me, Rhodey, I know what I'm supposed to feel."

"No you don't, Tony. No one knows what they're supposed to feel or not. There is no one set feeling for everyone. You don't have to be or do anything. If you don't want to have sex, then that's okay."

"It's not like I don't want to. It's like the choice has been taken away from me. I'm so confused. I don't know who I am anymore." 

Rhodey nodded taking Tony's hand in his own. "Then we'll figure it out." 

Tony laughed, small and strangled before pushing Rhodey back down onto the bed and curling up beside him. 

"I don't think it's gonna be that easy."

"Things with you never are." Rhodey teased. "But that's alright. At least they're not boring."

* * *

Steve woke up the next morning in Tony's house, which was not a surprise. His head pounded, which was also not surprise. Especially remembering sharing two bottles of Jack with Clint. He is, however, surprised he even remembers his own name.

Steve wrenches his eyes open only to be slightly confused with how he ended up where he was. He remembered him and Clint stumbling their way of the roof only to run into a beautiful redhead with a wicked smiled whom Clint introduced as his sister. The three of them stalked around the party, mostly drinking and dancing. Most it was a blur after that point. 

And now he found in self curled up on the floor in a blanket in one of the large family rooms that were usually off limits. On one side of him was Clint snoring loudly his back pressed against Steve. And beside Clint was Natasha, on hand laying on Clint's shoulder, and her other arm she used as a pillow for her head. 

Steve looked to his other side slightly surprised to see Bruce sleeping curled up in a tight ball. Perhaps the most surprising thing of the morning though was who was asleep on the other side of Bruce. Snoring loudly, laying on his back, all limbs spread but the hand that was curled in the Back of Bruce's shirt was Thor.

He looked back over to Bruce to see his eyes opened. Bruce smiled ruefully looking behind him before shrugging. Steve took that as a 'I'll explain later' signal and he could not wait to find out more. 

This was perhaps one of the best ways Steve had woken up recently. Surrounded by friends, happy and content. Even if he did have a bit of a headache. 

Steve wiggled around digging his phone out of his pocket. Happy to note that he didn't squash it in his sleep, he checked to see if he had any messages, only to feel a tug of disappointment to find he didn't have any messages. Bucky's last message saying he couldn't make it still up on the screen.

"Breakfast is ready." He heard a voice at the door. He turned to find Jarvis standing there a small smile on his face as he looked down on the sight on the floor. He nodded once to Steve before walking back out the door. 

"Oh god, who wants to think about food at a time like this." mumbled Clint from beside him, twisting to throw his arm over his eyes. 

Natasha laughed softly beside him opening her own eyes. "Maybe if he didn't get so wasted last night." 

"Wasted? You drank at least three times more than me." Clint laughed shoving against her shoulder with his free hand. 

"I'm not the one who can't hold their liquor." 

"Blasphemy. I can out drink an elephant."

Steve huffed out a laugh before attempting to untangle himself from the pile of blankets the he assumed Jarvis must have gotten for them in the middle of the night, being kind enough to let them stay. Steve made a mental note to thank him during breakfast. 

"Morning my friends." Thor's voice boomed. It was a wonder it didn't shake the whole house. "I believe I heard something about breakfast?" 

Thor smiled wide and earnest. Steve decided then that he liked Thor, even if his brother had a bit of an unkind reputation.

Several minutes later after several minutes of laughing and falling over each other as they attempted to get up, they all found themselves sitting at the kitchen bar with piles of eggs and bacon on their plates, watching a robot arm twirl around the house picking up trash and chirping happily. 

"What is that thing?" Clint asked. 

"Genius." Tony answered from the door way, looking better than Steve had seen him in a long time. Which was explained by Rhodey walking through the door a moment later rubbing sleep from his face. 

"It looks dumb." Rhodey said, smiling up at Tony before making his way into the kitchen to make his own plate. It had been a while since Steve had seen Rhodey, but he was happy to see him now as Tony looked over at him with mock hurt and real happiness swimming in his eyes. 

"Dumb for a robot arm, yes. Genius for me." 

"If you're saying a robot arm is smarter than you, than that's the most self aware thing you've ever said." Rhodey smirked. 

Steve laughed watching the room as it dissolved into teasing and laughter. Things weren't perfect. Far from perfect. But for the first time in a long time, Steve felt like he could breathe.


End file.
